To Sing, Every Phoenix Must Burn
by Kore-Proserpina
Summary: HIATUS. They were a race long thought dead. Now, in keeping them a secret, Snape finds that he cannot stand her in the least. Snape OFC. Romance, Humour, drama, rating for later chapters.
1. Prologue

**To Sing, Every Phoenix Must Burn**

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. If it's canon, it's definitively not mine. I'm only borrowing the characters; JKR can have them back when I'm done—hopefully in one piece.

To those of you who are new to this story, welcome! To the old, welcome back! I am in the process of revamping my entire tale from scratch; you may recognize it as 'Phoenix Song' in its earlier incarnation. I have just gotten a new beta, and WOW, she is good. _Nothing_ gets by her. Any errors you see are strictly my own. My never-ending thanks go out to Val Carlson for agreeing to beta my work.

Never fear! Those chapters I have deleated will return, though maybe in not the same form. My plot bunnies were running away with me, and I had to do some drastic culling to bring the herd back down to size.

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**Prologue**

"Sprout!" Snape called, barging into the greenhouse. "Pomona, where the devil are you?"

"Over here, Severus."

He looked around the flowerbeds and finally found a witch with a shabby hat pruning an Alihotsy bush. Pausing from her work, Professor Sprout put down her clippers in her basket and beamed up at her fellow professor. She wiped her brow and smiled. "Well Professor, what's all the rush about, hmm? Did your cauldron boil over?"

Irked by his colleague's never-waning cheerfulness, he sighed irritably. "No, it seems that my entire supply of pellitory nettles has been ruined. The last students to use it seemed to find it _amusing_ to let a Glumbumble in the jar." _I bet it was those Weasley twins, _he thought.

"Well, don't go and get your robes all in a knot, now," Sprout replied as she stood and walked through the plant beds. "Let me see what I have... Nope, fresh out." She smiled and pulled the clippers back out of the basket. She tossed him the empty basket which he reluctantly caught. "You'll have to go gather your own."

Snape scowled and turning with a flourish, headed for the door.

"Oh, Severus?"

He stopped and turned. "What?"

"Bring me some fennel seedlings while you're at it, this year's crop looks like it could use some strengthening. Besides, don't they grow in the same clearing as the one you're heading to?"

"Yes." His scowl deepened and he turned once more. Muttering under his breath, he walked out the door.

Pomona chuckled to herself as she resumed her pruning. "You'd think a smile would kill the man."

oOoOoOo

Snape strode out of the greenhouse and headed towards the Forbidden Forest. The sunlight was extremely bright compared to the gloom of the dungeons, and he shielded his eyes from the glare. If only the school year had started, then he could have sent a student to do this for detention—indeed, preferably a Gryffindor. He smirked, amused with the idea. _Wait—Did I just yearn for the school year to start?_ He was stunned_. Where did that come from? _He shook his head, discounting the notion. _Must be the sun._

He reached the outskirts of the Forest and stopped to look around. "The nettles grow… ah, this way, in the clearing near the ravine," he said to himself as he turned and headed into the trees.

Walking into the trees, he paused; there was a Thestral lapping at something on the ground. _What is a Thestral doing this near the outskirts of the forest?_ They never moved this far out unless Hagrid was tending them. He cautiously neared the animal, but it did not shy away. He saw a dark smear across the leaves littering the ground. "Blood?" he questioned aloud as he knelt to examine the dark, sticky substance splattered on the leaves. He rubbed the liquid between his fingers, and saw its crimson hue smear across his pale skin. _It _is_ blood._

He surmised that something had been attacked fairly recently, and it had to have been last night or early that morning, as much of the blood was still fresh.

The Thestral whinnied and took off, leaving him alone in the clearing

His eyes widened in alarm. He stood suddenly and drew his wand from his sleeve. He stood stock still as his eyes scanned for signs of any movement.

A low growl emanated from behind him. He turned, unsure of what it creature it came from.

There it was again; a snarl in the bushes. _Bugger, that sounds like a bloody wolf. If only I was this lucky all the time._ He raised his wand in preparation.

Suddenly, a creature leapt at his throat. Half-man and half-wolf, its clothes were torn and bloody and it had a mad, feverish look in its eyes. "_Stupefy_!" The creature was knocked from the air. It hit the ground with a thud, and Snape backed away to judge its next move.

Instead of being knocked out, the beast stumbled to its feet, dripping blood. _Here is the source,_ Snape thought. The lupine creature panted heavily and gave a low, keening howl. The savage gleam faded from its yellow eyes to be replaced with a dull glaze. The beast staggered and fell once more. Its sides heaved and it watched fearfully as Snape grew closer to its side.

Snape circled the beast, his wand ever at the ready. He watched it warily. "You are not a werewolf. That much I can surmise, since it _is_ daylight, and there is obviously no moon," he gestured at the sky, watching for a reaction. _Besides, I know one._ The beast appeared more human than wolf, in any case, yet its body had a silvery pelt, now reddened with the blood leaking from it.

"_What do you want from me?"_ The creature hissed, vainly trying to keep his eyes on the circling figure.

"What I want," Snape said, his voice cold and calculating, "is to know _what_ you are and your business in the Forest. Surely, you can tell me that." He stared directly into the other's eyes.

The creature hesitated in his response, his eyes flickering with anger. He felt the presence of another at the edge of his consciousness as memories rose to the surface of his mind. _He is like the other, both have wands, both cast spells…Why do they seek me out, they cannot know who I am…can they? Yet, he has not tried to kill me…Oh, it would be so nice just to tell... NO! They cannot know. I will not speak._ He pushed the alien presence from his mind. He then shuddered with the effort of speech.

He gazed purposefully back into those cold, black eyes. With a calculated grin, he whispered, "_Those who speak of what they know find too late that prudent silence is wise…_"

Snape was thrown back by a surge of energy sent through the mental link. He stood up, shocked at the failure of his Legilimency. It felt as if there were two minds, two personas, inhabiting the body instead of one, creating a stronger force when his mind was hurled out. "Who are you?" Snape hissed icily. "_What_ are you?"

It was too late, the creature had already gone limp, passed out from exhaustion and blood loss. He carefully reached down and noted that at least the beast was still breathing. As he stood up, he noticed the creature beginning to change form. He moved back to a safe distance and kept his wand trained on it. He knew that it was unconscious, but looks could be deceiving. And, of course, changing form – unconscious or not – is usually trouble.

He watched in amazement as the wolfish features melted away to be replaced by that of a man with dark hair, around his own age. The man, creature-- he was unsure of how to consider him--never stirred once the shape shifting ceased, but he cast a Stunning Charm just to make sure. He checked the head wound to see if he was well enough to be moved. "Perhaps the Headmaster will know what to make of you."

He flicked his wand, "_Incarcerus!"_ Cords shot out and bound the limp form. "_Mobilicorpus."_ He waved his wand once more and headed back towards the castle, his original errand all but forgotten.

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**A/N:** Yes, I borrowed a line from POTO. It has always been one of my favourites. 


	2. A Matter of Trust

Disclaimer: See prologue

* * *

**A Matter of Trust**

_Oh, my head…what the hell did I sleep on? Argh…I feel like I got hit by a…Huh?_

Yonati opened his eyes and saw two blurry figures standing over him. They gazed down at him quizzically as he blinked slowly, trying to drive the haze from his vision.

_Oh. _The events from before came rushing back at him and his eyes widened in alarm when he did not recognize the two men watching him. _They have wands, just like the others._

"No!" he snarled. "Leave me be!" He rolled from the bed and instinctively crouched into position, ready to either attack or defend. Yonati's lupine features returned: his body became coated in a fine, silver fur, his fangs were displayed in a snarl, his claws were bared and at the ready, and his eyes were yellow and wild.

Snape raised his wand, but Dumbledore stilled him with a wave of his hand.

"Headmaster…"

"No, Severus, he does not know we mean him no harm." Severus reluctantly lowered his wand but refused to put it away completely.

"Come, sir, you had quite a nasty injury when Professor Snape found you. You were lucky not to be deeper in the Forest," Dumbledore coaxed, as he smiled kindly down at Yonati. He took a step forward and opened his arms, showing himself to be unarmed.

_Professor? _He was surprised find himself treated as a man instead of the beast others always saw first, when and if they saw him. Yonati watched their actions and stood wearily, his eyes never leaving the other two in the room.

"Where am I?" he asked, still unsure of his surroundings. He realized that he was in a infirmary of some sort, judging by the many beds to either side of him, and the curtains separating each one. He studied the two wizards. _The mentor and the dark prodigal, what do they have in store? _He stood carefully and resumed his human form. His head spun from the effort and he staggered as he struggled not to fall.

Professor Dumbledore took Yonati by the arm, "We have all the time in the world, but first you must sit. You have been unconscious for almost a day; you still are not fully recovered. You had quite a severe concussion." _A day! What, was my skull bashed in? _He knew he had nearly bled to death, but didn't realize his concussion had been so severe; he should have been out for only a little over an hour. Yonati reluctantly allowed himself to be led to one of the chintz chairs that Dumbledore had conjured with his wand.

"Headmaster, if I may have a word with you?" Snape followed Dumbledore off to the side. "How much are you prepared to tell him?" he whispered in agitation. "We do not know whohe is. We don't even know if he is _human_, let alone if he is trustworthy."

"Severus, my boy, I sense in him the same trepidation that you share. Besides," he said with a wink, "you're here," his eyes twinkled. "He'd be hard pressed to get something past you." He patted Snape on the arm and went to sit by their visitor. Snape rolled his eyes and went to sit in the last chair. He was annoyed by his employer's tenacity for cheerfulness in almost every situation. _I swear he does it to annoy me. _

"Tea?" Dumbledore asked and levitated a pot, with several cups and saucers over to where they sat.

"Yes…please." Yonati surmised that he was still somewhere in Britain, at least, since he was offered their universal panacea. He eyed it warily and waited for the others to drink before sipping slowly from his own cup. He winced as his head throbbed.

"Still hurting?" Dumbledore gestured to Snape, "Severus, give him something for the pain."

"I'm not a mediwitch," Severus grumbled as he went to grab a vial off the table next to the bed. Returning, he handed it to Yonati. Yonati eyed it with suspicion and reluctantly removed the stopper.

Dumbledore noticed his hesitation. "I promise it will not harm you. It is only a potion for the pain; it should help to ease your discomfiture."

"You give your word?"

Dumbledore nodded. Appeased but still wary, Yonati downed the vial and felt a wonderful chill soothe his abused skull. He let his guard relax slightly…only slightly.

Satisfied with the proceedings, Dumbledore began the conversation. "You no doubt have many questions; perhaps I can answer a few by introducing ourselves. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and this is Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master."

_Wizards?_ Yonati quickly hid his shock by taking another sip. "Ah, I must thank the two of you for healing me. I hope I have not inconvenienced you…"

"Of course you haven't, the school year has not yet started. There's nothing like a bit of excitement to break the monotony of course planning. Isn't that right, Professor Snape?"

Snape rolled his eyes in annoyance and crossed his arms.

"Professor Snape, is it?"

Snape nodded.

"You were the one who found me in the forest, yes? I briefly recall seeing your face…yes." He leaned back as if remembering. "It is all so hazy… Professor, I apologize if I attacked you yesterday…" He waved his hand inconsequentially. "I … was not myself…" He sighed, gathering his thoughts. "You have heard the saying 'An old tiger, sensing his end is at its most fierce'. Well, it is much the same for us. It is a …survival mechanism of sorts; if we are dying, we will take down as many as we can with us…" He shrugged in explanation and put down the cup.

"Excuse me, sir," Snape sneered, "but we have shared our names, yet you have yet to provide us with yours." He leaned forward menacingly. Yonati returned his glare.

Glancing at Dumbledore, Yonati conceded. "My apologies; I have indeed been remiss in this particular social custom." He raised his guard. "But, you must forgive my apprehension as you bear… ah, certain similarities to my attacker."

Dumbledore, seeing the rising tension between the two, asked gently "Who did you encounter in the woods yesterday?"

"I… was flying over the forest, returning from a trip, when I was attacked by a masked man on a broom… He was wearing a long, black cloak and a mask. He grabbed onto me, slashing with a knife. I dove for the trees. I did not mean to kill him at first, but he left me with no choice. I flung him into a tree, and hit one myself; I assume that is how I was injured." His eyes took on a distant look. "I had turned my back for a moment when he hit me with a curse. I believe he said 'Crucio.'"

Snape glanced at Dumbledore. "What did it feel like?"

"It felt as if fire was coursing through all of my veins. I felt as if I had been dropped into molten lava…I couldn't see, couldn't breathe…It was excruciating…In that moment I wanted nothing more that to give up and pray for the pain to end. " His eyes took on a far away look. "Then I saw it, I could see the magic at its source. I knew that if I could deflect it, then the pain would end." He shook is head. "I must have done so, for the next thing I heard was my attacker screaming in the same agony he had placed me."

"You managed to throw off the Cruciatus Curse?" Snape asked incredulously. "That is highly improbable."

"Ah, so that is what it is called. And yes, it seems that way, doesn't it? Our kind has always been very strong-willed." The beginnings of a smile touched at his lips.

_That would explain my difficulty entering his mind,_ Severus thought. _But why did it feel like two?_

"What else can you tell us of your attacker?" asked Dumbledore.

"There was a tattoo on his arm, his left forearm, of a skull with a snake coming forth from its mouth, almost as if it were a tongue." He saw Snape flinch and unconsciously rub his own arm. He looked at the threads of magic inhabiting the room, and saw that they were noticeably darker behind that black sleeve, but he said nothing, sensing there was more to his story than immediately evident. "I have his wand… here." He drew the wand out of the folds of his ruined cloak and handed it to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore placed the wand in a special drawer in his desk, intent on sending it to Olivander later.

Both wizards were stricken by this news, and appeared anguished. "Death Eaters. We must discuss this later." Gesturing at his ruined cloak, Dumbledore inquired, "Perhaps we can offer you a change of clothes?"

"No, that will not be necessary. I must return soon to my country."

"Your name, sir?" Snape asked yet again. He did not spare to hide the annoyance in his tone.

_Fine. _"Oh. I am Yonati Rohal, Tha'abas of Tirnab." He gave them a nod in the place of a bow.

"What does 'tha'abas' mean, Mr. Rohal?"

"Forgive me. It means 'King' in our language, Tirnai. I may be correct in saying that you probably have not heard of our country, but I believe the Celts know of it as Tir Na Nog, 'Land of the Ever-young.' We prefer the name Tirnab, meaning 'Sky-land,'" Yonati smiled with amusement, "for… it is indeed a 'kingdom in the clouds'."

Thoughts ran rapidly through Snape's head. _He is a king from another land? But what does the Dark Lord want with him? I have heard nothing of his kind, perhaps this is a new development if the Dark Lord is reaching out to other races. Perhaps it is a sign of his mistrust. I must speak with Dumbledore about this._

"Your Majesty, then…"

He enjoyed how he managed to upset the dark wizard's footing. "Please, Headmaster, it would please me greatly if you kept this information confidential, for my safety as well as your own. You may refer to me as Tha'abas, or simply Yonati, if you wish, for there are none here who would know my title."

"Tha'abas, then… Why is it that we have not heard or seen the existence of your people until now?"

"It is the same reason that I have not seen a wizard since…_Doshe_…Merlin. Your kind wish to remain hidden, so do mine. In fact, we may have seen proof of each others' existence, yet attributed those phenomena to ourselves, for we both wield magic, do we not?"

"Perhaps our worlds have been separated for too long," said Dumbledore, half to himself, as his hands steepled in thought.

"Perhaps. May I ask who these 'Death Eaters' are that you spoke of earlier?" Yonati ventured.

"Death Eaters are followers of the Dark Wizard, Lord Voldemort." Snape flinched at the name, but Dumbledore continued. "They seek to aid Voldemort's recovery and ascension to power, often through any means necessary, most of them nefarious in nature."

Snape flinched. "Headmaster," He interrupted, "How much do you plan on telling him, we do not know if he can…"

"Professor, I appreciate your apprehension; it is the one thing that has kept me alive these many years. But, I believe this, this name is familiar…" He leaned back and closed his eyes in thought.

_A shrivelled humanoid figure sat high on a throne… It was dark and shadows hid his features. Masked and hooded figures knelt at its feet… The fear in the room was absolutely palpable…Screams erupted from a writhing figure at the base of the throne. A shrill, snakelike hiss that could only be described as cruel laughter came from the seated figure wielding the wand._ _His head turned to reveal mere slits for its nose, a mouth that was twisted, thin, and cruel. His eyes glowed red and he raised them to…_

Yonati opened his eyes, breathing heavily. He had seen many visions like this before. He raised his trembling hands and wiped his face, calming himself.

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked.

"The One-of-the-red-eyes...It was a vision, a warning of sorts." Dismissing the question, he asked, "This Voldemort of yours, describe him for me."

Recovering from his flinch at the Dark Lord's name, Snape answered first, and his tone was flat as he spoke. "His body is twisted by hate and the many spells and potions that keep him alive. He speaks with a hiss and his eyes…"

"Glow red with his hatred." Yonati finished. "This does not bode well for either of our people." He sighed, "Perhaps, as you said, Headmaster, your world and mine have been separated for far too long. I…I have seen many visions of a war brewing, though I did not want to believe them…perhaps it will hold more relevant for you than it does for me. But if so, then why was I attacked? This Voldemort must have found out about my people, perhaps he seeks to defeat us as well. If this is so, we must unite, or we all shall be defeated."

Snape sneered in disbelief, "Why, do you claim to have the abilities of a Seer?"

"You could say so," Yonati smiled at his reaction, "or you can say I am tormented by it. It is both the curse and the blessing of my position. It often causes me nothing but pain, but I have seen so many saved because of it." Yonati grew thoughtful, "Would it be possible to send an emissary of sorts, to reintroduce wizards and Tirnai to each other?"

Dumbledore leaned forward at this. "I believe that this might be the best way. What do you propose?"

"If I were to send an emissary, what position would she hold?"

"It would depend on her abilities, how well she wields magic, and if there is anything she could help with," Dumbledore answered.

Yonati continued, "I believe you will find her abilities sufficient. As for how we use magic, we do not use wands as you do to focus it. We use our minds, our song."

Dumbledore motioned for him to continue with his explanation.

"To our kind, magic is a tapestry, a weaving of the energy of all around us. By manipulating the threads…" He waved moved his hand as if separating threads, "we can change our environment… to fit our needs." He conjured a new set of clothing from the air. With another flick of his wrist and a clap, the new set replaced the torn and muddy set he currently sported. "Borrat." With another wave, the old set disappeared.

"Song, as I said, is vital; it is the intent behind the song that brings forth the magic. You have all listened to umani composers and felt the emotions that their music could evoke?"

"Pardon me," Dumbledore interrupted, "but, what does 'umani' mean?"

"Forgive me, umani refers to humans."

"Non-magical, I assume?"

"Why, yes."

"Ah, yes, our word for them is 'Muggle'."

"In that case, the music of Muggle composers. Well, if they could cause one to feel all that emotion without the use of magic, imagine the power they would have, what they could do, if they did use magic. For is not all magic affected by the intent behind it, and all conflicts by the emotion surrounding them?"

"That is indeed true," interjected Snape, "but I fail to see how that is relevant."

Yonati looked towards Snape. "Imagine, Professor, that you are facing an opponent that is matched against you in every way. You have no hope of defeating them in a contest of pure skill, and to tip the tide, you began to sing lowly. As you fight, your opponent slips, makes fatal errors, errors that they would not have made, had they not been _trembling in fear._" He sang the last phrase slowly and his eyes began to glow with a yellow light.

Professor Snape broke out in a cold sweat and his eyes widened in alarm. He sat back in his chair, trembling, as Yonati moved to stand over him, his eyes still glowing with their deadly light.

Yonati stood over Snape and suddenly released his hold and resumed his seat. "I see that I have made my point."

_Damn you. Gods, it was as if I was before the Dark Lord himself…the same glowing eyes…leaving me nothing but a snivelling (Merlin, I hate that word), trembling wreck…well, _this_ is indeed a powerful weapon…_

"I concede. You have made your point. But if you try that again I will _hex_ you until…"

Yonati was amused by Snape's consternation. "Fine, fine. At least we now understand each other."

"Tha'abas," said Dumbledore, "I believe I may have a position for this aba'maja you spoke of. Your use of music, the ability to control your emotions and the emotions of those around you with such finesse, is a very useful tool. If I may ask, can it be taught to others, to wizards perhaps?"

"Yes, it can. In fact she has experience teaching lyrical magic to our own youth. I believe she has also told me of her work with potions.

With this last comment, Dumbledore gave a thoughtful look over at Snape.

_Oh, no. He better not even think…_"No!" Snape stood up. "No. I refuse to be some _babysitter_," he sneered. "I have no idea what her abilities are or if she will even be able to do the incantations that are necessary. No, I refuse."

"She may be of use to us. Would you be object to her teaching a class on Music, or perhaps being an assistant to several of the professors?"

"Headmaster! You cannot be serious!"

"Severus…"

Appalled by the way things were heading, Snape got up and swept from the room.

"I would not be opposed to her teaching, if that is what you wish."

"It would provide your emissary sufficient cover, without arousing suspicion."

The two schemers were in their element. "Then we are agreed?"

"Yes, let us work out the details."

oOoOo

"Ah, Severus, you came back." The two were now alone in the office.

"What did you decide upon, since my opinion _clearly_ does not matter?"

"Well, Severus, since you do _not _care, Noira Rohal will be serving as both an assistant to various professors, as well as teaching a class on Music."

"What will you tell the Ministry?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "We will tell them the truth. We have the opportunity to host a professor from a foreign county who is skilled in the use of obscure magic. They do not need to know from where or _why._ Voldemort is growing in power; we know this much. There must be something going on that he has not told you of. I believe the Tirnai will become very powerful allies. We will see…"


	3. The Feast

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­**A/N:** All borrowed lines are from OOTP, Chapter 11, and belong to J.K Rowling.

Disclaimer: See prologue

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**The Feast**

It was the Sorting feast. The students had just begun to enter the hall and find their tables, and most of the teachers had already arrived. Snape sat at the head table, contemplating his goblet and trying to avoid inane conversation.

"Who is this new Music professor we've all heard so much about? I hear she's quite the looker, eh?" Flitwick elbowed Snape in the side; Snape narrowed his eyes in response.

_Oh, you short, little, annoying man… _Professor Gadwright, the Muggle Studies professor, said, "_I_ heard that she's from another country. Albus told me something about using music and magic simultaneously…hmm…sounds a bit like those Muggle CDs, perhaps she can capture sound magically…"

This discussion babbled on for what seemed like forever. Snape's steel resolve finally reached its end. He set down his cup, and in a cold tone that brooked no discussion, he spoke. "She uses music in combination with magic to wreak havoc with her opponents' emotions, rendering them, in effect, defenceless." The front table fell into silent shock.

_Wow, he can talk. _He didn't need his Legilimency to see _that_ thought flash through all of their minds. Snape rolled his eyes. _Why the hell did I have to say something?_ If it wasn't the start-of-term feast, he would have stood up right then and stalked out of the hall. Instead, he had to be content with merely sitting back as the discussion began once again. _Merlin, I hate feasts._

Just then, the door behind the staff table opened and in walked the new teacher. She walked in near silence, the only sound coming from the swishing of the fabric that enveloped her. Her attire was almost completely covered by her vaya, a wide swath of fabric that covered her right shoulder down to past her fingertips, and extended to the ground in both front and back. The cloth was black shot with silver, and shimmered like water in the candlelight. Her black hair was pinned back sensibly from her face and the curls cascaded down her back. She stopped, contemplating where to sit.

Somehow, Snape knew that her appearance had to be glamour. He noted that her entrance was the perfect cliché; the newcomer is _always_ an otherworldly beauty, at least in any story he had the _misfortune_ to waste his time with. _There was no way that could be her true appearance_, he thought with disgust. _Probably as vain as they come,_ he grumbled to himself.

It was as if the Red Sea had parted. The moment she had stopped, almost all of the male members of the staff scooted over, trying to create room for her between them. Severus viewed them with disgust…_ hmph._ He caught her eyes, they were a golden yellow. _Where have I seen those eyes?_ He thought.

_Oh, of course, _she's_ the emissary. That would explain the eyes… she's a bloody fey, just like the Tha'abas. Tirnab, my foot. I'm calling it Tir na n'Og and leaving it at that. Why does she get to show up right before the feast? _The rest of the staff had already occupied the castle for the past two weeks, and he saw no reason why she should have been excused from the policy. If she was to have fit in as a proper professor, the least she could have done was show up on time. Now the limelight would be undeniably hers as she introduced herself to the entire staff. He gave a snort. _I do hope she has her lesson plan done… oh it's going to be so nice to tear her apart._

The new teacher bowed to the Headmaster in greeting and proceeded to find a seat. Snape huffed to see the fuss they made over her and then to his surprise, she sat next to him. _Of course, it's the only empty seat._ All eyes riveted over to where she sat and they all tried to hold a conversation with her, much to the dislike and dismay of the toad-like witch near the middle of the table.

It hurt to have her sit next to him; it was simply too predictable. _Why did I have to read the drivel I confiscated last year?_ He sneered and realized if this rubbish of a situation was true to form (curse that book), her attention would most likely focus on him--'_The Poor, Misunderstood, and Brooding Hero,' _which he most certainly was not. No hero would have done or seen the things he had. It was all a load of tripe if you asked him. And of course, she would more than likely be perfect in every way. He also thought that she would be annoying as a Crup pup. Snape stared at her coolly in an attempt to drive her away, but instead she held his glare and returned it with a small smile. _Bollocks._

"I do not believe we have met. You are Professor Snape? My father told me of you. You are the potions master, yes?" Snape nodded and proceeded to try to ignore her. _So this is the emissary sent by the Th'abas… I wonder if she's actually got a brain under all that beauty, or if he was just trying to get rid of her?_

"By the way, I am Noira Rohal." She frowned when he completely ignored her.

A witch leaned over to greet her. "I'm Pomona Sprout, and this is Gabriele Gadswright." The other witch waved her hello. Since the direct glare had no effect, Severus set his head in the opposite direction, determined to look in any direction but _hers. _Pomona noticed this. "Don't mind Severus, dearie, he's just an old sourpuss." Noira grinned while Snape just harrumphed in response and turned to see the first years file in. _What new dunderheads do we have here?_

"Charmed," Pomona chuckled. "The rest of us have been here a couple of weeks already."

"Yes, well, international travelling does have its downfalls."

"That it does. You were almost late to the Sorting, love. There comes Minerva with the first years." McGonagall set up a stool and placed a grubby-looking hat upon it.

"What is that?"

"That's the sorting hat, you'll see. Hush now, it's started."

_In times of old when I was new_

_And Hogwarts barely started_

_The founders of our noble school_

_Thought never to be parted…_

…_For our Hogwarts is in danger _

_From external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_

_Or we'll crumble from within_

_I have told you, I have warned you…_

_Let the sorting now begin._

_Danger? My father told me of the conversation he had with the Headmaster, but he did not say that the danger was so immediate. _Noira thought about the hat's song. She wasn't alone. The entire hall had erupted in whispers at the caveat laid forth by the hat's song.

The students muttered about the hat's strange song until McGonagall gave them and the staff a scorching look. The Hall instantly quieted and she began the sorting.

Seeing the ghosts' grand entrance, Noira leaned over to whisper to Pomona, "I did not know you had ghosts here. They usually do not show themselves in my country, and when they do, they are quite malicious."

Sprout leaned over, cautiously eyeing Minerva. "Ours are completely harmless… well except for Peeves. You'll get used to them quite shortly."

Noira looked at her inquisitively and was about to ask who Peeves was, when Dumbledore stood, the Sorting now concluded.

"To the new, welcome! To the old, welcome back! A feast is made for eating, not speech giving, so…tuck in!"

The teachers talked while they ate, catching up on news from the summer and discussing the latest happenings in the Ministry. Flitwick leaned forward to see around Snape to the new teacher. "Professor Rohal," he squeaked when Snape eyed him testily.

"Please, call me Noira."

"And you must call me Filius. So, you're teaching a music class? I must say, I don't believe Hogwarts has had a music class before."

McGonagall cut in. "In fact there was, but the last one was over 600 years ago."

"True, I had forgotten it. It is still rare, in any case…So, what houses do you have in your first class?"

Noira smiled when she was finally allowed to speak. "I believe the Headmaster told me it was Gryffindor and Slytherin. I know it was one of the upper levels, I believe it might have been fifth years. I do know he made mandatory, at least for the upper levels. The younger students were to take it as an elective. He said something about increasing their cultural competency." _Or really just to strengthen their magic; of course I cannot say that aloud. _

At this, Flitwick's face blanched in sympathy. "Oh dear, have fun with that combination. The two are always volatile." He leaned forward across Snape, heedless of the warning look from the Potions Master, and whispered conspiratorially, "_I think Albus does it on purpose, just to see us squirm…"_

Their corner of the table broke out in peals of laughter while Severus just tried to sink lower into his chair. _Just great, now Flitwick thinks he's a bloody comedian._ His scowl deepened.

Just then, Snape was saved from his torment when Dumbledore stood to address the hall. "I hope you have all enjoyed yet another splendid feast. Just a few remarks before you all hop off to your common rooms and bed! First years, take heed – the Forbidden Forest is exactly that, forbidden. A few of our older students should know that by now.

"In addition to the many new faces that have joined your houses, we have also had several changes in staff. We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who shall be taking Care of Magical Creatures. We are thrilled to introduce Professor Rohal, who shall be teaching Music and all that it entails in our magical realm; and Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

_Again, _Snape thought, _not me. _He didn't applaud with the rest of the Great Hall.

The applause quickly died down as Dumbledore began once more.

"Quidditch tryouts will take place on the--"

He broke off, and looked inquisitively at the short, toad-like Professor Umbridge. It took awhile for the others to realize why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but they soon realized that Umbridge had stood, uttering a short, "Hem, hem."

Dumbledore looked stunned for only a moment, then quickly sat down as if he would love nothing more than to hear her talk. The other staff members did not hide their surprise so well. Noira noted the stunned reactions of those around her. Snape's eyes had narrowed, while the ever-talkative Flitwick looked too stunned for words. McGonagall's lips had thinned dramatically, and the other teachers looked aghast. Noira grew contemplative and sat back to observe with a careful eye. _Well, here begins the speech._

'_Progress for progress's sake must be discouraged…tested traditions require no tinkering…' What is this woman getting at?_ Noira unconsciously fingered the ring on her right hand as mulled over Umbridge's words._ I was told to watch for her, as the Ministry was unaware of my nature… Some changes for the better while others must be discouraged…pruning what should be prohibited? I wonder what they fear…I must keep a low profile,_ she smiled to herself, _maybe I should get a wand just for the sake of appearances._

She was brought out of her reverie by the sound of hesitant clapping. Dutifully, she clapped a few times, and exchanged curious glances with her new co-workers.

Soon, the feast was over and the students had been dismissed to find their way to the common rooms. The staff had remained behind, chatting with one another. She smiled at McGonagall and shared a few thoughts on the feast. McGonagall glanced around the room and seeing they were not being watched, slipped off to the side with her. In a low voice, she gave voice to her concern. "I'd watch out for Dolores if I were you. Don't say anything around her that you wouldn't want spread. In fact, it would be best if you did not find yourself alone in the same room with her."

Noira looked at her with slight alarm. "How did…"

"Albus told me all about you. It is not safe to trust the Ministry right now; they refuse to believe He Who Must Not Be Named has returned..." She glanced around once more. "If you ever need help, come to Albus, Severus, or myself."

Noira sighed with relief. "Thank you, Minerva, I will do as you say…there is something conspiratorial about her nature…I do not trust her."

"And you should not. Well, let us talk of more pleasant things, shall we?"

After awhile, the teachers began to find their way back to their rooms. Noira was well pleased with her reception, and with a smile and a bow, she turned with a flourish of silks to find her way back to her chambers. There was a house elf waiting to escort her once she had left the hall. On her way out, she gave a nod to Snape who had, uncharacteristically, remained longer than absolutely necessary.

He caught a whiff of her hair as she passed right beneath his nose on her way out the door._ She smells like jasmine, and tuberose, and ginger…_ He almost sighed before he caught himself. _Where the hell did that come from? _With a scowl, he too turned and headed through the door, wasting no time in distancing himself from her annoying scent.

Finally in his dungeons, he brooded facing the fire he had lit. _Damn her._ His mind wandered as he thought of her hair and how it would feel clutched between his fingers…_Stop. Right. Now. _He reminded himself that it had to be glamour; she was _too _beautiful. With a curse, he left his dungeons, hoping to find refuge in the dark, empty halls.

He wandered aimlessly through the halls, as was his habit. Too bad there weren't any Gryffindors wandering around to deduct points from, for that would have certainly lightened his mood. Walking further, he heard the sounds of a soft flute lilting through the air. He neared the door to an empty classroom and pressed his ear to the door. A few moments later, Snape pulled back confused. He heard… _nothing. _There was complete silence, almost as if there was never any sound to begin with.

Shrugging, he continued his rounds.


	4. Sing a Song

Disclaimer: See prologue

* * *

**Sing a Song **

Harry, Hermione, and Ron had almost completed their first week of classes, and two of the three were seriously looking forward to its end.

The trio of Gryffindors headed up from the dreary dungeons and back to where actual sunlight lit the halls.

"Yes! Finally, we've reached the last class of the week. Where's it at, anyway?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's question. "Honestly Ron, don't you ever pay attention? Our schedule said it should be somewhere on this floor."

"Well, in that case, we'll look for it after lunch. I'm starved." Harry led his friends into the Great Hall.

"Why do you think Dumbledore wanted us to take Music? I mean, what are we going to do, scare Death Eaters off with a _bagpipe_?"

"Come on, Ron," Harry answered, "a bagpipe's scary enough. There's no need to add Voldemort to that picture." He paused to pick up his bag from the table. "I don't know _why_ we're taking Music. All I know is that it'll be nice to end the week with this and not Snape. What do you think we'll have to do?" Harry mentally shuddered at the thought of Potions; it had been hell the first time this week, and not much better the second time.

"I don't know what we'll be doing," said Hermione thoughtfully. "I went to the library for some research, and I didn't find anything but snake charming… in fact, there wasn't even a Music _section_."

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes. "Well, at least Harry doesn't need to learn snake charming; he's already got that part down."

The Trio laughed and continued eating.

oOoOo

"Wow." That was the only thought that passed through their Harry's mind as they entered Classroom 6. The stone walls were covered in shimmering curtains of burgundy edged with silver and the windows were covered as well. Torches lit the room with firelight, and the room as a whole had an ethereal, exotic flavour. The teacher's desk had a wooden flute, lyre, drum and violin resting on it, while various other instruments lined the cabinets to the back. Drawing their attention back to the centre of the room, they saw the rest of their class standing forlornly, not sure whether to sit on the stools in front or in the desks in back.

"Hey, what are those tools for – those on the shelf?" Ron finally broke their silence.

Hermione looked back at the shelves. "They look like woodcarving tools. Wonder what those are for…Hey look, sheet music!" She gestured up to the front of the room. "I wonder if any of it's for flute."

"You play the flute?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Yes, I was in the school band before Hogwarts. You never asked. Of course, I didn't play a Celtic flute, I had a concert flute. I suppose the music for one could be played on the other…"

The rest of the class had finally made their way into the room and were chatting amongst themselves when, in a swirl of silks, the mysterious new Music professor entered. Seamus leaned over to whisper to Dean, "_I told you she was hot."_ The other boys agreed wholeheartedly with this sentiment.

When she stopped to face her class, they immediately turned to face her. She observed their silence. "Come. This first class will be a discussion. Leave your bags on the shelf; you won't be needing them." With a flick of her wrist, the stools had transfigured into cushions.

The class put away their bags and came to sit on the cushions. Harry sat down on the cushions and thought _Hey, this is pretty comfortable. Wait – she didn't use a wand. She didn't use a …_

He was pulled from his thoughts when Hermione leaned over to whisper in his ear. _"She did wandless magic. How did she do that?" _

_"I don't know," _he whispered back.

The professor folded her robes about her and alighted on the tall stool at the front of the room. "You no doubt have many questions, the first of which is most likely 'Why on earth am I taking Music?' We will get to that in time."

A few smirks broke out across the room. Noira surveyed her class and noted that they had already arranged themselves by House. _I will have to fix that_, she thought.

"I am Professor Rohal, as you have no doubt already heard. Ay, the rumours I have heard passing through the halls…" She crossed her arms and rose, "And no, I am not part Veela. I don't believe I've actually ever seen one." When her back was turned, a few Knuts and Sickles changed hands. She smirked but did not turn. "I will ignore that exchange this time, but don't bet in my class again, understood?"

The money immediately ceased to flow.

She turned to face her class. "Now, who can tell me the three parts of casting a spell? Yes, Miss…"

"Hermione Granger, Professor." Hermione had raised her hand eagerly and put it down once her name was called.

"What is the first part to casting a spell?"

"Intention. To cast a spell, you have to intend to produce a certain effect."

"Very nice, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. Does any one else know the second step?" She turned to point to a Slytherin in the back.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Draco put his hand down and smirked. "The second step is focus of mind. The intent has to be focused onto an object or being."

"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy, five points to Slytherin. And as for the third step, it is focus of power. Most wizards accomplish this with a movement of their wand; however, for lesser spells and for more powerful wizards, it is not necessary."

Noira went and stood behind her desk. "What I will teach you this year, is to harness the intent of your magic. As most of you should have realized by now, the emotions of the caster, as well as the recipient, can affect the outcome of the curse."

She paused when Harry raised his hand. "Yes?"

"Is that similar using a happy thought to cast _Expecto Patronum_ on Dementors?"

"Yes!" Noira said with exuberance, "That is exactly what I am talking about. Five points to Gryffindor Mr.…"

"Harry Potter, ma'am"

"Excellent Mr. Potter. Now as I was saying…"

Hermione looked at Harry with admiration while Malfoy and his cronies glared at him with disgust. _See, I did learn something in DADA, even though most of our teachers were rubbish,_ Harry thought. _Except for Lupin, I wish he was still here. _

Here Professor Rohal grew serious. "When uncontrolled, emotions can have disastrous results… However, you are here to learn to control your emotions through the demanding discipline and exquisite art of Music. A fond smile grew on her lips as she continued, "It is my hope that you will learn to appreciate the beauty of music's many melodies as they crescendo around you, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses."

Ron looked at Harry and whispered, "_Blimey, she sounds like Snape; I hope she doesn't teach like him." _

Noira began walking between her students and her eyes glowed faintly, almost imperceptibly in the firelight. "I can teach you how to imbue your allies with unshakable courage, to cast nets of fear, even weave the cloth of – _romance…_" Lavender and Parvati began tittering excitedly. "If you apply yourselves to the art and _pay attention!"_

The excited whispering that had crept across the room immediately stopped.

Noira gave an inviting smile and sat down. "Any questions?"

Her class was thrown for a loop and didn't know what to expect next. Their teacher was all at once intimidating and friendly, funny yet serious; not someone you'd want to get on the wrong side of. One of the Slytherins raised his hand in a calculated manner.

"If you're not a Veela, what are you? Your eyes are gold; I've never seen eyes like that."

Noira jumped on the inside, but hid it as she narrowed her eyes, almost as if she was calculating the absurdity of the question. She raised an eyebrow, "Then I take it you've never seen Madam Hooch's eyes." _That was close._ She couldn't believe there was someone else on staff with yellow eyes, even if they were closer to light brown.

Harry was the next to raise his hand. "Why don't you use a wand?"

She sighed at this observation, trying to find a way to say much, yet reveal little. "You're right, I don't have a wand. You use wands to focus your magic. In my country, we use very old magic; we can focus our power with our minds, our song, which I might add, is one of the objectives of this class. I will teach you the power of Music… And if not," she shrugged, "at least the school will have a larger choir."

Neville cautiously raised his hand. "Professor, will you sing something for us?"

She nodded her acquiescence, and her eyes began to glow and her voice was hostile and cold.

_"Bound at every limb by your shackles of fear _

_Sealed with lies through so many tears _

_Lost from within, pursuing the end _

_You fight for the chance to be lied to again…" _

The class began to sink into their cushions, tears began to fall and the room grew cold.

_"…You will never be strong enough _

_You will never be good enough _

_You were never conceived in love _

_You will not rise above" _

Tears fell freely now from some of the students as her voice slowly lilted into silence. "How do you all feel?" Noira's voice was soft and full of empathy.

Parvati said, "It felt as if I'd never be happy again."

Harry broke in, "I could see everything that ever happened…"

"What, Potter? Missing your precious parents?" Malfoy sniggered.

"ENOUGH! Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you would like to share what you felt with the class?"

Noira was livid and Draco saw this and immediately shut up. His face turned red and mumbled, "No, Professor."

"Very well, ten points from Slytherin for your blatant disrespect." Malfoy gave her a look promising retribution, and Noira simply ignored it.

"That song was designed to bring out the worst memories that all of you hold, to reduce you to tears. When your enemy can focus on nothing but their own failures and shortcomings, then it is easier to exploit them to your will. Now, let's have something… lighter in tone."

Waves of pure bliss and well-being swept through the room as Noira's voice swept exultantly around the room. The students tears dried and smiles broke out across the room. Harry recognized the feeling of courage that surged through his being.

When she was done, Noira observed her now-cheery class. "That song heartens all of your allies. When the battle has become long and weary, or you're simply buried under a never-ending pile of homework, it never hurts to have hope."

She was interrupted by the bell signalling the end of classes. "Class dismissed." Everyone stood up to retrieve their bags and left the room.

"Professor Rohal." She stopped transfiguring the cushions to see who had called her.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked at her as if he didn't know exactly what he was going to say. "Why did you choose to make us all sad like that?"

She sighed and gave him a light smile. "I do not believe in 'sugar-coating.' One day, you will all have to reface the hardest parts of your life, and it would be best if you already knew how to, without breaking down in the process."

I understand, Professor. Can I ask you something else?" She nodded. "That last song," he started, "well, it reminded me of phoenix song…"

Noira interrupted him before he could say anything else. "That's exactly what it was Mr. Potter, well done." She smiled at him and he returned it. "Don't tell a soul."

He felt a warmth akin to sunshine go through him. "Yes, ma'am."

Harry turned to leave and was happy to realize that this professor acted like she didn't know who he was, as haughty as that sounded. He felt almost...normal around her. He caught up to Ron and Hermione who had waited for him just outside the door. They turned and headed for the common room, when Ron suddenly stopped walking.

"Did either of you sense something fishy about her?"

"No, Ron," Hermione answered. "Why?"

He blinked a few times before blurting out, "Oh, my God, she had fangs!"

Harry snorted in disbelief. "Honestly, Ron, next you'll be telling us you think she's a vampire."

"I'm serious, I saw…"

Hermione shook her head. "Come on, Ron, you're probably just imagining things."

* * *

**A/N: **Song lyrics are from "Lies" by Evanescence. Noira's speech was modelled on Snape's speech to the first years; it was just too good to pass up. 


	5. Elemental

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

**Elemental**

_Ah, _she thought,_ the first week is over at last_. Noira saw the pitiful glow of her fireplace and stacked a few logs on top of the dying flames. "_Kametet._" A plume of fire leapt from her fingertips and lit the logs ablaze.

Grabbing her favourite tea kettle, she filled it with water and hung the kettle from the hook in her fireplace. "Now, where did I put my tea?" She mumbled to herself, tapping her finger against her sternum. She sighed when she remembered where it was, _Oh yes, its in a drawer in my desk._

A figure sporting a long, white beard called from the doorway before stepping in. "Noira, my dear, can you spare an old man a few minutes for idle chitchat?"

She bowed respectfully before answering, "Of course, Headmaster, would you like some tea? I am afraid I just put the water to boil…"

"Why, I'd be delighted," he answered. "No need to rush, take your time." Dumbledore moved to sit in one of her armchairs by the fire.

Humming softly, Noira retrieved a pair of cups and set them on the low table before her. Reaching into her sachet, she pulled out a handful of red tea leaves and sprinkled them liberally into the base of each cup. Her hands were sure and moved with precision, as if it was an action repeated many times before. She noticed Dumbledore's gaze and explained, "I have always taken great pleasure in preparing tea, especially in the traditional manner."

Before she could explain further they were interrupted by the addition of another.

"Headmaster, I got your message about wanting to see me…" Snape paused in the doorway. His eyes narrowed as they flicked towards Noira. "If you are busy, I shall wait for you outside…"

"Nonsense, Severus. Come in," Dumbledore paused and looked to Noira, realizing he might have breached etiquette by inviting someone into what was clearly not his office.

"It's alright, Headmaster." Nodding her head in Snape's direction she continued, "Do join us, Professor." He looked at her warily, and realizing that he was outnumbered, came into the room. When he had settled into the chair next to Dumbledore's, Noira prepared him a cup as well, taking equal care in parcelling out the tea.

Snape observed Dumbledore the Headmaster watched her tend to the kettle. She began to chant softly.

"_Water engenders wood." _The image of a lone tree appeared in between Noira's hands before it transfigured into a swirling blue haze. She pointed her palms downward and the haze distributed itself among the flames. _"Wood engenders fire."_ Her hands clenched suddenly into fists, causing the fire to flare with energy as the mist encircling it dissipated. _"Fire engenders earth."_ Noira flicked her wrist causing the ashes to swirl and disappear_. "Earth engenders metal."_ A sheen of vivid orange flashed over the pot as she raised her palms skyward_. "Metal engenders water."_ Steam hissed from the kettle's spout. Deftly, Noira grabbed the handle of the steaming kettle with her bare hand and waved her other hand to lower the fire. Noira leaned over each cup and poured precisely the same amount of water in each, before returning the kettle to its hook on the mantle.

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, watching, his eyes twinkling with understanding. "Yet, each element overpowers the other." He paused over the statement, tasting the idea thoroughly as a thought occurred to him. "Thus, the elements join in…perfection."

_What just happened? _Snape scowled. _That was wandless fire magic, _he thought, _or at least it started that way. What kind of magic is this?_

Noira handed the two of them their cups and Snape felt a jolt as their hands touched. He was amazed at how cool her hands were. He certainly didn't see her cast a cooling charm. Besides, her hands would have been cold, not just cool. Agitated at his lack of knowledge, he couldn't contain his question.

"How did you do that?" His voice was accusatory. "You didn't use a cooling charm. That kettle was as hot as fresh Ashwinder eggs and you just grabbed it like…"

He was interrupted in his tirade by a softly uttered phrase from Dumbledore's mouth, "An Elemental." His voice carried a secretive undertone of awe.

Noira simply sat on her armhair with her feet tucked under her and sipped her tea silently.

_She's an Elemental? Impossible. So who is she? Miss I-Can-Do-Rare-Magic-And-Am-Perfect? Oh, but that's right; she's a walking cliché, isn't she? What else did I expect? _He still wanted to know how she did it, though. Snape opened his mouth to demand an explanation when Dumbledore abruptly changed the topic. Snape shut his mouth with a scowl and levelled a cold gaze in Noira's direction. To occupy himself, he took a sip from his tea and found it—_perfect_. Somehow it already had lemon and everything. He was surprised and looked at his cup with a raised brow._ This might just be a trick I should learn_

His mind returned from his musings and he listened to Dumbledore and Noira's conversation in silence.

"How have you fared with your classes so far? Nothing you couldn't handle, I assume?" Dumbledore asked conversationally.

Noira smiled lightly. "Hmm… Children are the same everywhere; always full of questions, some eager, others wanting nothing more than a nap." She laughed softly at this and broke out into a grin. "I did have one student nonetheless, that was a bit—cheeky."

She directed her gaze towards Snape. "I believe he was one of yours, Professor Snape," she looked up, thinking. "I think his name was Malfoy."

_Bugger. _Snape clenched his jaw in anger when he saw her mischievous grin. He, however, was not amused. He did not like the glint in her eyes, and did not know what to expect from this wildcard new professor. He looked at her with a stony gaze and his sneer in place, "Oh? What did you do?" His voice was silky with his temper.

She flashed her fangs, "Nothing that would…leave a mark." She placed emphasis on this last word.

He choked on his tea when he saw her fangs. The sound of his sputtering was accompanied by a fit of giggles when Noira registered the expression on his face. Dumbledore fought hard not to join in. "I really had you going, didn't I?" She snickered again, but at least the storm seemed to be abating. "Oh, your face…that was priceless."

Snape glared at her menacingly and put down his cup. Too many years being the butt of jokes had not made him learn to appreciate them. "Calm down." She tried to placate him. "Malfoy insulted another student, so I asked him to share his feelings. When he was faced with a legitimate opportunity for comment…he chose to remain silent, instead of share."

Snape continued to glare at her, and Noira stifled her amusement and even as she held his glare. His lip curled into a snarl and with a curt nod in Dumbledore's direction, he swept from the room. "I will meet you in your office, Headmaster."

Noira covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh dear, I've upset him," she said with concern.

Dumbledore reached over to pat her hand reassuringly, "Don't worry; he'll be over it by tomorrow. Merlin help any student in his path, though."

"Good," Noira smiled. "Hmm… maybe I'd better not sit next to him at dinner tonight, unless I want poison in my tea."

"I was actually looking for you to let you know that I've received a package for you from the Tha'abas. Come by my office after dinner to pick it up."

Noira wondered what her father could have possibly sent her, since the Headmaster had told her that most of anything she would need could be purchased at nearby Hogsmeade, not that she'd been there to verify the fact. She nodded to Dumbledore. "Of course, Headmaster."

Another figure entered the doorway, not even stopping to knock. _Umbridge, hell._ Noira gave Dumbledore a panicked look and he winked at her stood up. "After dinner, Noira." He headed for the door. "Good afternoon, Noira, Dolores." He left through the door, leaving Noira feeling like she was trapped in the lion's den.

Noira took a deep, calming breath and greeted her visitor. "Professor Umbridge, what a pleasant surprise."

"Oh, No need to be so formal, Noira," the witch simpered, the ridiculous bow on top of her head nodding like a lazy poppy. "We'll be working closely together this year, so simply please call me Dolores."

Noira was annoyed by the squat witch's uninvited use of her first name, but for the sake of avoiding confrontation, and to end this chat as soon as possible, she said nothing.

Umbridge continued, "I don't believe we've had a chance to sit down and chat by ourselves yet, so I decided to pop in and have a visit."

"Well, it is the start of term; we have all been very busy," Noira said while wishing she would just get on with it. She decided to sit down and suffer through the spiel, since she couldn't very well flee from her own office! She sighed and crossed her arms, putting on her attentive face. She knew that if this was anything like the long-winded speech given at the sorting feast, she'd be hard pressed to sit through it all.

Umbridge cleared her throat, _hem-hem. _Noira had a feeling that whatever the witch was going to say had been well rehearsed. "Those of us at the ministry only want the best for the young witches and wizards of Britain," her voice was oily-sweet. "It is our goal that all prescribed curricula are met, and that the students learn just enough to successfully complete their O.W.L.s." She went on an on.

"I assure you, Dolores, nothing is more important than the students learning the proper material." Noira smiled while inside her mind she was gagging. "They are impressionable young minds; they must be _moulded_ to the proper form, not given more than strictly – necessary."

Umbridge broke out into an almost genuine smile. "I see we are of like minds," she said and took Noira's hand to shake it. Noira finally managed to extricate her hand from the witch's clammy grip.

"You must excuse me, Dolores; I have so much music to sort through, it was a relief to even sit as long as I did and chat. Good afternoon." She moved to the door to escort Umbridge out. Once she left her office, Noira shut the door and looked at her hand as if it was contaminated. Glancing around for something to wipe it on, she finally made do with a tea towel—the house elves would detoxify it for her if she asked them—and sighed in relief at having gotten rid of that loathsome toad.


	6. Mithridaticum

Whoops, I accidentally posted the wrong chapter here. Thanks BrierRose17 for catching it!

Disclaimer: See Prologue

**Mithridaticum**

Snape sat at the staff table on Monday morning, a long finger tracing the outline of his mouth. He couldn't seem to rid his mind of the music that had drifted through the halls on an almost nightly basis. Every night, when he would prowl the halls during his rounds, he would hear a soft flute, calling to him like a siren's song. The music frustrated him to no end, since he could never pinpoint the elusive source; every time he drew near, the music would fade into silence. He clenched his fists in anger and scowled deeply, unaware of the frightened glances sent his way from the student tables.

"Severus, stop that. You're scaring some of the first years."

His eyes snapped to McGonagall, who gave him a reproachful look before shaking her head and returning to her porridge. He fought the urge to sneer menacingly at the quivering first years and instead stirred his tea. He sipped it and grimaced, _too much sugar._ His thoughts drifted back to the experience he had last Friday in N…_Rohal's_ office, he corrected himself. Her and her damn mysteriousness…and what did Dumbledore mean by an Elemental… He'd thought those had all vanished long ago. _Mental is more like_ _it_, he smirked. Whatever Dumbledore had meant, it must be true because she didn't refute it. Besides, how _dare_ she have the gall to mock him to his face…

His thoughts were interrupted by a smoothly uttered, "Good morning, Professor Snape."

"Is it?" he answered before his mind registered the greeter's identity. _Well, speak of the devil. _Noira sat down on the edge of her customary chair before turning to face him, clearly trying to think of the best method to open a conversation without getting her head bitten off.

"What is it, Professor?" He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. He absentmindedly took another sip and shuddered at its overt sweetness. He pushed the offending beverage away before turning to glare at Noira. "There is obviously something on your mind," he crossed his arms, "must be too much for you, since it has you tongue-tied."

Noira's eyes blazed at his remark, but she refused to rise to the bait. He saw her turn to butter her muffin before glancing in Snape's direction with a sly, almost enticing smile forming at the corners of her mouth. Her voice was meek and respectful as she practically breathed her words. "The Headmaster wished for me to ask you about observing some of your classes today."

He grumbled in agitation and reached for some coffee instead and poured himself a mug. "Thank you for such timely notice." He sneered.

Noira glanced his way again, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. "The other professors have told me that you are a genius at Potions work, especially your work with Wolfsbane." He watched as she dropped her napkin and bent down to retrieve it. When she came up, she was gazing at him through her lashes.

"It would be an honour to see you work," he heard her say.

_What is she doing? Is she _flirting_ with him?_ _What the blazes was wrong with her?_ His thoughts drifted back to that garbage he had read. _Why did I have to read that godawful waste of parchment he'd confiscated?_ With malicious glee, he decided to play along. He'd see how long it took to break this newcomer of her obviously naïve tendencies.

Noira sat up once more, gauging her progress and resumed eating. After a while, she paused to lick a trace of jam from her fingertips, her gaze focused anywhere but his.

_Yes, she definitely has to be flirting with me._

Moments later, he answered in a terse manner. "Class is at 10:00, be there no later than 9:30." Noira nodded graciously in response as Snape got up and left the hall.

oOoOo

_Score!_ Noira broke out in a wide grin at her success. She thought about how Dumbledore had said it would be hard to get Snape to agree to an outside presence in his classroom. _Ha, sticky fingers get them every time._ Men were so typical. She looked over at the centre of the table where Dumbledore watched her display, his twinkling eyes showing veiled amusement, while McGonagall gave her a stern, questioning look. She smiled at them and stood from the table, making her own exit.

oOoOo

At precisely 9:25, Noira reached the entrance of Snape's dungeon domain. Hmm_…a bit dreary down here, but not as dismal as the students would have me believe._ She snickered as she remembered passing a pair of Ravenclaws on her way down. They had seemed absolutely terrified of returning to the black abyss, as they had called it. No, she thought, it's not _quite_ abysmal.

"Enter, don't dawdle in the doorway," a voice from inside snapped. She smirked when she saw that Snape was in his usual cheery mood.

"Professor," she greeted him with a bow.

Snape took one look at what she was wearing and immediately started. "You cannot possibly expect to work over a cauldron and not catch your sleeve on fire! Take that rubbish off and wear some normal robes if you expect to work in here."

Noira's eyes smouldered in anger and a few tendrils of smoke appeared out of nowhere. She clenched her fists before relaxing. Her voice took on the notes of cold disdain, "I've managed to work this way for years…but, if that is your _wish…_" She had a sneer to rival his own as she took off her vaya and folded it. "Where may I put this?"

Snape had already made his way back to the storeroom. "My desk is fine." Noira composed herself and placed the garment on his desk before following him to the storeroom. He was up on the ladder and he was stopped midway in reaching for a jar by the fierce look in her eyes. _Those glowing, golden eyes._ They locked eyes for what seemed an eternity before he found himself, inexplicably, being the first to look away. _Bloody woman._

"Grab a tray," he snapped, and he cursed himself silently for his weakness against her gaze. He handed her several jars before he was stopped by the feeling of her eyes boring right into the back of his skull. He turned to see her face marred by a cool scowl and he raised an eyebrow in question. "What?"

"You were very rude, demanding me to remove my vaya." Her voice dripped with scorn. Snape barely managed not to roll his eyes as he passed her a few phials.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye and took notice of what she had worn underneath her vaya. She had a tunic tied with a belt that revealed her narrow waist. _No… Not going there._ He noticed a coiled rope of some kind hanging from a belt. His eyes shifted downwards._ Nope, not a good idea either. _Her pants ballooned slightly at the knees where they were tucked into the tops of tall boots that accentuated her well formed calves, _and everything in between. Damn._ He blamed it all on her glamour.

He snapped himself out of it and passed her another jar.

When Snape didn't answer her, she continued. "The vaya is a symbol of status, as well as modesty. It is also considered very _forward_ to ask a woman to remove it."

_Ah, there it was, she was offended. Too bad I don't give a damn._ Out loud he said "Well, the next time I find myself caring about your safety, I'll have to restrain myself." His voice was icy with sarcasm.

She hit him back with a return volley so fast a bystander would have missed it. "And the next time," she said, "I see you passing me Shrivelfigs instead of Malta figs, as listed, which, I might add, would result in a rather interesting, albeit unwanted reaction, I shall have to restrain _myself_."

He looked at the jar he just handed her. _Oh hell, how did that happen?_

_Touché._ It seemed that a battle of wits would not only be bloody, but result in a stalemate. He raised a sardonic eyebrow at her, she returned with the same. _Thinks she's a clever lass, doesn't she?_

He hastily grabbed the offending jar off of the tray and replaced it with the right one. Seeking to change the subject and to get rid of her godawful, obnoxious smirk, he asked "What's that rope for?"

"Surely, Professor Snape, even with that brief encounter you had with my father, you must have realized we are a nation of warriors." Her eyes brightened slightly.

"The rope…"

"Ah yes," she fingered the cord with fondness. "It is a Punjab lasso. I got it off of a Frenchman…dead useful as a weapon."

He smirked with contempt. "A Punjab lasso from France, _interesting._" He snorted; it sounded like it came from a bloody musical. "I fail to see how useful a piece of rope can be in combat."

"You'll see," she answered enigmatically as she carried the now full tray into the classroom, "or you won't." She smirked as she walked past him, "Keep your hand at the level of your eyes."

_What? Was she _quoting, _now?_ But, before he could demand an explanation for her quip, the class had filed in. He instantly fell into full professor mode. "Settle down," he snarled.

Noira saw that it was the same class of Gryffindors and Slytherins that she had had on Thursday, and the two houses separated in almost the exact same way. "Professor Rohal will be observing some of your lessons as a _learning _experience." Snape sneered in her direction, and then turned to wave the directions onto the board. He pivoted with a snap and his robes swirled around his ankles. "You should not have any need of her assistance and neither should she have to intervene…" He dropped off and gave a few well-placed glares; he was almost pleased when he saw Neville gulp in fear.

Noira took his hint, and resigned to what he deemed to be her place in the back of the room. She moved to a tall chair and sat back to observe.

Snape addressed his class once more, "Today, you will be preparing a Mithridaticum." He saw almost the entire class go completely blank; _oh yes, except for that insufferable know-it-all…why am I not surprised. "_Mr. Potter, what is the definition of a Mithridaticum?"

Harry sat in silence as he tried to remember anything from what he had read the night before. He realized that he didn't remember reading _anything _about Mithri…_greasy git changed the lesson plan._ He was about to say he didn't know when he saw Hermione casually pointing to a small paragraph at the bottom of her open text. He looked at it without trying to attract Snape's gaze there as well. "Sir, a Mithridaticum is an all-purpose antidote that, when consumed on a daily basis, will provide immunity to…several…poisons." His voice dropped off as Snape stood menacingly above them.

"Five points from Gryffindor for your unasked aid, Miss Granger." He addressed the class as a whole. "The Antidotum Mithridaticum, in its earliest form, was created by the king of Pontus in the first century BC. This antidote contains a great variety of poisons in their raw form, combined to make an extremely toxic mixture; this is where we will be stopping today, and we will complete the antidote next week after it has had time to mature. I suggest you be careful in your handling of supplies. I doubt," he smiled eerily at his next words, "that the hospital wing has antidotes to every one of the poisons included. Instructions are on the board and supplies are in the back. Begin."

Noira walked in between the various desks and watched the students interact. She saw that Neville was absolutely terrified of Snape; the poor child trembled every time he came near. She saw Hermione stop more than once with her own work to correct him with a hiss of whispered instructions.

Snape watched from the head of the classroom as Noira made her rounds about the desks. Most of the students were pleased, almost calmed by her presence, as if they believed she had the power to drive away mean, old, nasty Snape. _Fat chance, _he sneered. Well, at least Longbottom hadn't blown anything up yet, even though that was nearly impossible with this potion. He saw some of the Slytherins leer openly at Noira's attire; a warning look was all it took to stop them, but he didn't know why he even cared, beyond professional courtesy, of course.

"Mr. Longbottom," her voice broke through his concentration and he shot her a warning look as she approached his most hopeless student. "Why do we wash our herbs before adding them to any mixture?"

"Professor Rohal…" Neville looked shocked that she had even spoken to him, much less asked him a question about his least favourite subject. He answered her in a timid voice. "Because the fertilizers or dirt could contaminate…_ I_ _didn't wash the rue."_ He whispered this last statement and hastily dropped the bunch he was about to put in his cauldron.

"Right, Mr. Longbottom," she said smiling at him. She then caught Snape's furious glare at having interrupted his class. Snape then walked right over to them and Neville paled considerably. "A word if I may, Professor Rohal." He furiously whispered.

Noira followed him to the storeroom. As she passed, the four students at that table gave her apologetic looks. Longbottom looked horrified that he might have gotten her in trouble on his account. Malfoy leaned towards Crabbe and Goyle and whispered theatrically, "Serves her right," he was still upset about last week, "I wonder if he'll make her cry." Goyle pretended to sob. "I'll bet she'll have to sing herself to sleep." The Slytherins burst out laughing.

Back in the storeroom, Snape had slammed the door shut after they had both stepped inside. He was livid when he stepped up to her, inches from her face. "What the hell did you think you were doing, Rohal?" he hissed. "I specifically asked you _not_ to help them. Mollycoddling will get them nowhere."

Noira was unmoved by his demeanour and raised an eyebrow at his furiousness. "What I was thinking," she said as she took a step forward, "is that I really did not need an antidote to an _antidote_." There was a definite edge to her tone as she moved until she was right in his face. "I do not care if you think I was interfering; I was more concerned about the students' safety, not to mention my own since I was standing right next to him!"

She turned away, disgusted. "You know as well as I that if he added those leaves unwashed, it would have sprayed poison halfway across the room. They could have been blinded, Severus, and there would have been nothing anyone could have done."

He wasn't through with her yet. "And yet somehowundermining _my _authority is going to make my classroom a safer place? I am afraid, _Professor_, that in this instance you are clearly mistaken. If the students listen to you instead of myself, control is lost and then, and _only_ then, will your arguments about safety have any relevancy at all." He glared at her and spoke in a dark whisper, "I assume this conversation will not have to be repeated. Do I make myself clear?"

He looked at her darkly and opened the door for her as she walked out. Tendrils of smoke followed her out the door. _What the bloody hell is that? _He took one look at the class-that-could-not-stay-quiet and said, "Time is up. Decant your samples into clean bottles and place them on my desk."

oOoOo

Snape was pacing in his office after class. _That stupid, infuriating, hellcat of a woman. How dare she talk back to me like she was a senior member of the staff? I have been here for fourteen years and she not even two weeks. Damn Dumbledore, I can't keep her out of my classroom…that's part of the bloody reason she was sent here. _He thought over the last thing she had said to him, _'They could have been blinded, Severus…' _He stopped mid-thought. She had called him by his own bloody name; he didn't allow that sort of familiarity and especially from that she-demon.

A voice in the back of his head whispered _you're just upset because she stood up to you and no one else has the bollocks to do so. _He growled to drown out the voice and cursed in frustration. He remembered the smoke that followed her at the door, _I wonder if I can make fire come out of her ears. How's that for payback?_

oOoOo

Noira was literally fuming by the time she made her way out of the dungeons. _Come on girl; keep it together at least long enough to reach your rooms._ She barely registered the students who were staring at the smoke and embers that followed her as she made her way across the castle. _Damn him, that irritating, pompous snake of a man. Wait—he would probably take that as a compliment. _His ill nature was like a poison, angering her to the point of no control. She was livid and even the Slytherins who had been mocking her stayed out of her way. She reached her rooms and slammed the door behind her, letting out a screech of frustration.

And who was he to treat her with such disregard; she was a _princess,_ damn it! Okay, so she was a junior member of the staff, but still, he could have treated her like she had some knowledge. _Probably afraid I'd show him up... _She felt pinfeathers starting to form on her arms. _Alright, calm down, breathe…_ The feathers withdrew and she rubbed her face, not believing that he almost made her lose control.

Noira reached to unpin her vaya and her hands found…nothing. "_Taizek!" _she cursed. She had left the cloth sitting right on Snape's desk. _And if I find it in anything less than _perfect_ condition...someone is going to pay. _

oOoOo

­­­­­­­­­­­­**Reference to Phantom of the Opera **


	7. Just When You Thought

Disclaimer: See Prologue

**Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse… **

The following morning, Snape and Noira sat stonily next to each other in the Great Hall (nobody wanted to switch them places) and each tried their hardest to completely ignore the other. Snape was picking at his eggs, while Noira managed to completely shred her toast.

She threw down the crusts in disgust. How had he managed to upset her so much to the point where she couldn't even eat? With the way things were going, she'd have to use her music on herself, simply to control her emotions when he was near. It was either that or light something on fire with accidental magic.

Because Noira had not yet had a chance to recover her forgotten vaya, she simply wore her training garb, as she had no classes that morning and some serious frustration to vent. Noira was antsy with the need to go out and hurt something.

She glanced over to where Snape was incessantly drumming his fingers against the table. _Tempting… but no--well, not yet, anyway… Maybe I'll go flying_.

"The spare brooms are kept in the storage shed next to the Quidditch pitch, if you decide to do so. Don't take them up too high; they tend to vibrate rather distressingly."

Noira blinked and looked confusedly at Madam Hooch for a moment before she realized she had said that last part out loud. At least she hoped that was all she had said out loud. Smiling noncommittally in response, Noira accepted her offer. She wasn't about to correct anyone on whether she needed a broom or not.

As Noira got up to leave, she was stopped by Professor Dumbledore. After a few whispered words, Noira bowed with a forced smile to the headmaster and turned around, glowering, to confront Snape.

After standing for a few terse moments next to Snape's chair, he finally looked up to acknowledge her. Getting straight to the point she said, "The Headmaster wishes to see the two of us in his office in an hour."

Snape looked up at her like the sound of her voice was enough to ruin his entire meal. _Oh, poor baby, and you can choke on it too…_

Noira made her way up to her rooms to freshen up. On her way to the bathroom, she looked wistfully at the twin blades lying on her bed. She pulled them out briefly, and then tucked them into their scabbards, hoping she'd have a chance to practice with them as soon as she returned. As handy as they might be, it didn't seem appropriate to have them slung across her back for the meeting with Dumbledore. "I'll return for you, my pretties…"

Noira left her room to confront whatever Fate and Dumbledore had in store for her and Snape (_bastard_)

"Pumpkin Pasties." The stone gargoyle guarding the staircase leapt out of the way. She made her way up the spiral staircase and reached the Headmaster's office.

Since there was no one around and the door was open, she made her way in and sat in one of the chairs across from his desk. Her eyes took in all of the gadgets and swirling devices that filled up every surface. She turned and saw the portraits of all the past headmasters. Some of them were dozing in their armchairs and other had walked out of their frames. A few looked down on her in greetings, and she returned a smiling nod in their direction. She turned when her eyes caught a flash of gold on the other side of the room, and grinned widely when it flew to her with a soft flutter.

"A phoenix! And what is your name, firebird?"

"_The bearded one calls me Fawkes."_ Fawkes came to perch on her knee. _"How is it that you understand me?"_

"_Let's just say that birds of a feather flock together."_

Fawkes trilled with laughter and Noira joined him, stroking his back. They resumed their conversation, completely oblivious to the fact that anyone else would only hear trills and chirps.

Just then, Dumbledore came in, followed by a very dour Potions Master.

Breaking out again into bell-like laughter, Noira slowly became aware of the confused looks sent in her direction. Dumbledore looked at her with disbelief, while Snape looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

Noira flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry," she murmured, "I got a little carried away." With a final chin scratch, Fawkes flew off to claim his perch on Dumbledore's shoulder.

Snape continued to stare at her. "What?"

"You were talking with it."

_Arse. _Noira shrugged and flicked a wayward curl from her face. "It seems that way, does it not?"

Snape's eyes narrowed and he moved forward to tower over her, while Noira looked up with a challenging glare. Dumbledore just shook his head at his two stubborn charges. He held up a small ceramic dish, "Sherbet Lemon?" Snape waved the dish away with a sneer for the obnoxious confection, while Noira shrugged her shoulders. Why not?

She grabbed one of the sweets and popped it into her mouth. She immediately began to gag. _Damn, that's really, **really** sour. _She gave a light cough, still in shock for how the Headmaster could pop them like, well, sweets. She glanced to the right where Snape was watching her and looking downright amused at her expense. She glared at him and hurriedly crunched and swallowed the rest of the drop down.

"And so, for the reason I've called the two of you here." Dumbledore sat behind his desk and leaned forward to talk business. "I've received a rather intriguing potion from your Tha'abas," he nodded to Noira, "one that could greatly aid us with our cause."

Snape interrupted him, "Headmaster, how much are you going to tell her? She is not part…"

"Severus, I understand your concern. Professor Rohal, you remember our discussions last week about the current… situation?" Noira nodded, and Dumbledore went on. "Do you know about that organization your father told you of?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly. "He said that you had an organization which worked in secret to prevent Volde—"

"_Don't say that name!"_ Snape hissed.

"—The One-of-the-red-eyes from gaining power," she finished.

Dumbledore asked, "And what is your position in all of this?"

"I am merely an intermediary, passing information from my country to yours, and vice versa."

"Yes, along with your Music that you will be helping us with, but we will speak of that later. Professor Snape has a position very similar to your own, you know that?"

"Yes sir, my father surmised as much." That surprised Dumbledore, though he did not react.

Dumbledore looked thoughtfully over his half-moon spectacles at each of them in turn. "I assure you, Professor Snape, we have her utmost discretion."

Snape looked at her with suspicion. _So there is something she's hiding._

Noira snorted with impatience when she saw his expression.

Dumbledore continued. "Now, back to this potion, there is a slight catch, however. Some of the ingredients only grow in Tirnab, which is rather unfortunate for our effort, so we will have to test for suitable replacements."

Snape was both intrigued and apprehensive of the way this conversation was going; while Noira was running through her head all of the possible potions that her father could have sent.

"Headmaster, forgive my interruption, but…what is the purpose of this potion?" Snape asked.

"From what I was told, it seems to suppress the effects of some of the more curses that you would be likely to encounter."

This was intriguing. "What about the Unforgivables?" Snape asked.

"I would have to confirm these facts with Noira, but the Tirnai do not have any equivalent curses to the Unforgivables. The potion is supposed to reduce the body's ability to feel pain, or so they have tested over the millennia," he summed up.

Snape spoke up. "Headmaster, wouldn't it be merely the equivalent of a Numbing Draught? It eases the pain, but then it removes all other sensations as well."

"Yes, but as I understood it, this particular potion still allows all other sensations to be felt, except for pain. It merely changes the feeling to one of coldness. Without the frostbite, of course; it merely feels cold."

Noira thought this information over. "Headmaster, I have heard of this potion…the Saving Ice, I believe it's called…the 'Fijaku Garadest' in our language. I have not worked with it before." She looked at Dumbledore with open curiosity. "That potion is relatively obscure and has not been used for years… My father suggested it?"

"Yes, and he also said that the Saving Ice can be imbibed pre-emptively."

Noira's eyes brighten as she made a realization. She began, "Of course, what was I thinking? The old battles describe—" just as Snape interrupted with "How does it work? Can it be reproduced with—?"

Dumbledore chuckled, "I am pleased to see both of you so enthusiastic about this project. Therefore, I am assigning you two to work together as a team."

Never before had a room grown so silent so fast. The new team gaped in shock before the deafening quite was broken by a dually uttered, "No!"

They both stood and began to point fingers.

"I refuse to spend more time than absolutely necessary with that insufferable boor, that snake in the grass!"

"Headmaster, you cannot be serious? How do you expect me to get any work done with that malevolent hag?"

Dumbledore silenced them with an amused wave of his hand. "Now, she is most certainly not a hag and I can assure you he is no reptile. am I mistaken in saying that you already _do_ work together, or are you not part of the same staff, Severus?"

Severus flushed and bit his tongue to resist screaming and clenched his fists. Noira was no better, a low growl was coming from her throat and her fangs were certainly not bared with serenity.

"I see we've reached an agreement. I'll have the ingredients sent to you laboratory, Severus, and Noira, here are the instructions so you can begin translation."

Noira mechanically took the proffered sheet and resisted ripping it into shreds.

"I bid you both a pleasant day." With that they were dismissed.

Dumbledore tickled Fawkes' chin. "The temper between those two is enough to light a thousand candles with the batting of an eyelash." Fawkes trilled in response and Dumbledore chuckled, "Energy is wasted on the young."

Upon leaving the Headmaster's office, Noira and Snape took off in opposite directions, with nary a glance between them.

Noira let out a snarl, not even seeing Ron jump out of her way. Nor did she hear him mutter, "That one spends way too much time around Snape," and Harry's quick rejoinder, "I think you're right. It would sure drive me crazy."

oOoOo

Noira reached her room and wove a silencing charm. She sighed, collapsing against the door, and then let out an almighty scream of frustration. She headed to the bed to grab her swords before making her way to the courtyard. _Now I really have some energy to vent…worm._


	8. It Does

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

…**It does**

Blades glinted in the sunlight as she wove through shadow and light with the ease of the wind. _Block, slash…_ she performed the movements effortlessly. Noira's grace and stamina were tireless as she attacked her imaginary partner with twirling leaps and sharp thrusts.

Some students in the courtyard watched from afar, but made sure to stay _clear_ out of her way.

_Slice, jump, roll, block;_ sweat dripped off her body as she performed the moves again and again until she was satisfied with her timing.

_Kick, drop, spin, cut_… Noira relaxed as her body attuned itself once more to the movements. She blocked out all distractions.

A Hufflepuff was watching her with avid interest. "Hey, what's Snape doing walking up behind Rohal?"

The Ravenclaw next to him paused her reading to look up with what could be described as vague interest. "Looks like he's sneaking up behind an armed and obviously dangerous woman. Four Sickles say he ends up on the ground, if not sliced from end to end."

A second-year Slytherin walked up to where they were watching from against a tree. "Nah, he's too smart for that. A Galleon says he doesn't."

"Fine, I'll take that bet."

_WHAM!_

"Ouch, that's got to hurt," they cringed. The Ravenclaw returned once more to her book. "Pay up."

oOoOo

Snape looked up in shock to find himself pinned on the ground with a sword a hairsbreadth away from his throat. All of the air had been knocked from his lungs. "Oww…" _Medusa's hair!_

"Serves you right, trying to sneak up on me…" Noira got up off of his chest. "Come on, get up."

Snape tried to raise his neck, and pain shot through his abused back. "I can't…" he whispered.

"What do you mean you can't?" Noira rolled her eyes. "Well, what did you expect? That which does not kill me had better run fast. Now roll over."

He gingerly complied and rolled himself over. She looked his back over pensively, before digging in. She proceeded to knead his back. "_Ah_…" he grimaced, "How was I supposed to know that was how you'd react?"

_Crack!_

"You mean other than the fact I was practicing swordplay?" She sneered as she looked down at him. "Well, I am glad to see that you are not letting your education get in the way of your ignorance."

He tried to sit up. "Bitch." At least the students were far enough away to not hear what they were saying.

"Idiot. Shut up and hold still, or would you rather I levitate you like this all the way to Pomfrey's?" Snape scowled and dropped back to the ground.

Severus heard a male voice talking from somewhere behind him. "Severus, you lucky bastard, I haven't even had a chance to talk with the sheila and you have her massaging your back."

Snape gritted his teeth. "Shut up, Hadley." _Snap!_ He moaned with his face in the grass as his back popped.

Noira smirked at his discomfiture. She looked up to see who Snape was talking to.

"G'day, I don't believe we've met. The name's Jeremiah Hadley, Ancient Runes."

_Pop!_

"Noira Rohal, Music."

Hadley crouched down to watch them. "So, what happened?"

Noira gestured to her discarded swords. "Genius here decided to sneak up behind me while I was training."

"Well, that was tin-arsed. Nasty lookin' blades you've got there. What are you doing out here, anyways?"

"The Headmaster gave me permission to continue my training. He set up an age line for me so that the students would not come to harm, of course, it only functions while I'm in it." She paused her kneading and looked up at Hadley. "So, how do you know Professor Snape here? I was under the impression that he is the antisocial black hole of the entire school."

Hadley laughed at that one. "That he is, Miss. Oh, as far as your question goes, we went to school together. I was in Hufflepuff until I transferred back to the Melbourne Academy of Mages. You could even say we were right matey while I was here."

Noira was confused. "But most of my Hufflepuffs seem terrified of the Slytherins."

"Ah, yes. That's usually the case. But you see," he gave her an exaggerated wink. "I knew that under that tough, touch-me-not exterior, Severus here was just a giant Puffskein."

_Puffskein? I'll give you Puffskein! _Snape was tired of being spoken about like he wasn't there. Simply because he was face down on the ground _did not_ make him invisible. "If we were 'matey,'" he spat, "then Black was the humblest Gryffindor to ever pass through this godforsaken hellhole."

Hadley laughed some more and clapped him on the back, causing Snape to flinch. "Always the joker there, Severus. Besides you know this little 'hellhole' is your own personal heaven."

_This little 'hellhole' is my own personal heaven…Oh, bite me._ Sneering was not nearly as effective with a face full of grass.

"May I?" Hadley reached over to pick up the swords.

"Sure, just do not try to use them; they're attuned to my bloodline."

"Really?" He whistled at the sharpness of the blades. "Surprised you didn't slice the bloke clean through."

"That is what I said." She turned her attentions once more to the man beneath her. "Why were you sneaking up behind me, anyways?"

Snape gritted his teeth as her fingers dug into his shoulder. "I was not—_ow!—_sneaking. I had called your name repeatedly, and you never answered."

"Funny, I did not hear you, and my ears were wide open."

Snape jerked. "Ow! Sadist."

"Jackass."

"Beast."

"Halfwit… Look, I am really tempted to just leave you here like this."

"Fine," he grumbled and stilled himself once more.

Hadley was amused by their verbal sparring. _Surprised it hasn't gotten physical,_ he laughed,_ oh wait, it already has._

Snape looked at him coldly out of the corner of his eye. "Hadley…not a word." When he didn't leave, Snape asked, "Why are you _still_ here?"

"Oh yeah, it seems we're having inspections."

"What!" Snape roared as he was shoved down yet again.

"Here's the good oil. Seems the Ministry's going to hell in a hand basket. The Ministry, in their great wisdom, has created the glorious position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor."

"Can they do that?"

"Well, they did, and there's no point getting' all aggro about it. You'll never guess who's in charge neither."

Noira cringed. "Do not tell me."

"Yep. Umbridge."

Noira groaned and Snape shook his head. "You're kidding."

"Nah, that's dinkum. And," he added, "since the three of us are the most junior members of the staff, besides the toad of course, we are last to know. Make your lesson plans now."

Snape scoffed. "Like I'd change anything for those dolts."

"Still, better safe then sorry. Oh, here's the paper." Hadley dropped the paper in front of them and walked off.

Snape scrambled for the paper, knocking Noira off his back in the process.

"Hey…give me…ow."

"Mine." Snape sneered triumphantly. He unfolded the paper and they were immediately taken aback.

**MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM**

**DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER **

"**HIGH INQUISITOR"**

…"'_This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the "falling standards" at Hogwarts' said Weasley. 'The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure they are coming up to scratch..."_

"Like bloody hell they will," Snape sneered, and then continued reading.

_"…Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have had concern over some of Dumbledore's 'eccentric decisions' in the last few years and will be glad to know the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation,' _

_Among these 'eccentric decisions' are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments which have included the hiring of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid, delusional ex-Auror 'Mad-Eye' Moody, and this year's installation of Noira Rohal, a foreigner of dubious origin, in the newly-formed post of Music professor."_

Noira snarled as the paper burst into flames.

Snape hastily dropped the paper and stared at her incredulously. "Can you kindly refrain from burning the paper until _after _I'm done with it?"

Noira got up from the ground, stuffed her swords back in the scabbards on her back, and began pacing. "Why were we not told of this beforehand?"

"Perhaps that's what the staff meeting is about…bollocks—right now, which is why I was out here in the _first place!" _Snape pushed himself off the ground and staggered as fast as he could for the staff room.

Snape was huffing and his back hurt like hell by the time he made it to the staff common room. He didn't see anyone following him as he crept his way into the room. _Ha, beat her here. I'm not the last one._

"Severus, glad to see you could join us." Dumbledore said as he looked up from his notes.

Snape was still trying to catch his breath as he came up with an excuse. "Potion…critical step, had to stir it exactly fifty-two times an hour into …"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "We understand, old boy. Have a seat, you're just in time. And you ran all the way to get here…such dedication."

Hadley gave Snape a knowing look as he scanned the room for an empty chair. _Ah, there's a chair, right next to Rohal. **Rohal!**_ _How did she…I was…There was no one behind…Damn it. _Snape sat down with a huff next to her.

"Glad to see you could make it." She sniggered.

He only had the energy left to glare.

* * *

**Borrowed lines are from OOTP, chapter 15**


	9. Dark Shadows, Bracelets, and What

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

**Dark Shadows, Bracelets, and What the Hell?**

"_Of all the nasty surprises to be had, stumbling into a trap of your own making has to be the worst." - Anonymous_

oOoOo

Noira left the staff room pale with the thought of having her every move watched by that loathsome toad. At least her class all her classes were going to be occupied by carving their own psalteries, so there was nothing to worry about there. She had noticed Umbridge watching her constantly during the staff meeting, seeing what points she had agreed on, and what objections she had raised. She knew that as the newest teacher she was the unknown factor, and as such, Umbridge would be keeping an eye on her. "Educational degree number twenty-four, my arse," she muttered quietly to herself. _I can now officially say that today has been one of the worst days of my life._

First, she had left her vaya down in the dungeons, _I will probably find it covered in potion stains_, and then she had that damn potion to work on with Snape. _I know my father must have planned to have us working together, must have been something I told him… thought it would be a splendid joke, if I do not kill that bat first._ At least having Snape pinned down beneath her had been amusing. Ah, how the proud fall, with a loud thud! She smothered her sniggering with her fist as Snape came out of the staff room, glowering at her as he made his way. She glared back, _arse,_ and she gritted her teeth when she realized she still had those instructions to translate.

_And fuck Umbridge and her scheming_. She knew she was being watched, and that her mention in the Daily Prophet was most likely a warning to stay in her place. "Foreigner of dubious origin, indeed," she scoffed. _I can trace my heritage back to the earliest kings of our land…_ _Toad._ She knew her mission was important; she had to be the eyes and ears for her kind among the wizards. Dumbledore knew as well as she her importance, and now he had asked her, no-- _told her,_ to give Mr. Potter private lessons on the emotional control part of music. He had not told her specifically why, but how could she refuse? He had given her protection; she only hoped his influence was enough to protect her from a ministry that technically didn't know she existed.

She ran her fingers through her hair in agitation. _Oh no!_ She reached down to pick up the feather that had tumbled its way down from her hair. Stuffing it quickly in her pocket, she looked up and Umbridge was standing over her. "It seems Fawkes is moulting; I shall have to go take this to Dumbledore," she said as she twisted her ring in irritation.

Umbridge still stood there in her way, watching her with a calculating gaze. "I trust you shall be ready for your inspection."

She smiled with saccharine sweetness, "Of course, anytime you are." Noira made her way back to her rooms; she never saw the dark shadow watching her from the alcove.

oOoOo

Snape left the alcove and made his way back to his dungeons. He winced as he closed the door. He dropped his outer robes on his bed as he made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a huge bottle of extra-concentrated Essence of Murtlap on the way. _Oh, my aching back_. He unbuttoned his coat, and then shirt, revealing his long, lanky frame, and a back that had now turned a rather unfetching reddish blob_. Bitch_, he thought as he realized just how hard he had been really thrown. _And that was without magic. Hate to see what she'd to her enemies… Oh, right, I guess that includes me._

He filled the tub with warm water and poured in the Murtlap. "Oh gods, that feels good…" he moaned as he sank down into the tub. The bruising began to go numb as the Essence worked its wonders.

He decided one thing he'd never do was to accept defeat.. He could still see her graceful form spin through the air like a whirling dervish, _what the hell am I thinking? __And what the hell was I thinking when I decided to sneak up on her?_ _I should have let her miss the staff meeting…She could have bloody well killed me!_ He decided that placing the blame solidly on her shoulders was much more productive with his current mood, and he pondered ways of exacting his revenge.

_Oh, it will be sweet_. He thought of what he would do. _What do I know about her?_ He knew there was more to her than she showed… _What is she hiding?_ The feather, her skill, her fey heritage, the fangs, elemental magic, wandless to boot… His thoughts then turned to her eyes. Those eyes, they glowed with fury when they argued, they glowed with amusement when…his eyes widened, _when that she-demon_ _pinned me!_ How dare she laugh at him, again…Why couldn't he have waited for Dumbledore _outside_ of her office? he growled with frustration and slapped the water. "Aha!" He knew what he'd do, and this time he'd be the one laughing.

oOoOo

They had been working on the Saving Ice potion all week and all they had achieved was complete and total frustration. Neither had made any concessions to the other, and their mental sparring matches were as fierce as ever. The one ingredient they needed to replace was the Korynth roots, which (predictably) only grew in Tirnab. They had searched for days to find reliable substitutes for the Korynth roots, but nothing seemed to have any effect.

"List the directions again," Snape ordered.

Noira sighed. "Alright. Take the hound's-tooth base and add a gill of gillyliquor and a pinch of nightshade, stir twelve times widdershins. Add two drams of ground ash yam mixed with a base of henbane and let it sit, without stirring for one hour. Add a cup of spring water, capture the resulting steam in a clean linen cloth and set aside. Stir vigorously clockwise for a count of thirty seconds, and add a sprig of sage, followed by a solution made with 3 ounces bicorn horn. The potion should now be a lustrous blue, with flickering gold above the surface." She took a quick glance at their work. "Check." She looked up at Snape. "Now comes the part that never goes right. While simmering on low heat, slowly add a handful of Korynth root shavings, stirring slowly until the brew becomes a clear green."

Now came time for Snape to make his obviously incorrect suggestion, and hope she fell into his trap. "Perhaps if we were to add a solution of ferrite grains?"

"Ferrite grains will not work, Severus." Noira said, as she leaned on the table, exhausted after another fruitless round of brewing.

At least they were now grudgingly using each other's names.

"Why not?" he snapped. _Come on…play along._

"Unstabilized, it will react with tisane of powdered bicorn quicker than the henbane will, limiting the effectiveness to only fifty percent."

"Show me," he said as he handed her the chalk for the board. He already knew the answer why, but he needed her to be distracted. As she was busy drawing the diagrams, he switched out several of the phials on the counter for the specially prepared ones in his pocket.

When he heard the chalk cease to scratch across the board, he looked up to see what she had written, and willed himself to look thoughtfully interested. "Ah, of course. The reaction rate between the bicorn and the unstabilized ferrite is faster than that for the henbane. Perhaps if you added a bit of wyvern oil to retard the reactions, sort of as an anticatalyst?" He smirked as he finished. _Just fall for the bait._

Noira thought about that for a moment and decided, "That might work, yes."

She reached for the bottle of _not_ wyvern oil and removed the stopper. Snape's lip twitched; he was beside himself with glee.

He watched her raise the bottle and fill the dropper to the required level. What the bottle really contained was a spirit of hartshorn, coloured purple to resemble wyvern oil. The only purpose that ingredient served was to explode—_anything_. He moved to the far side of the cauldron and covertly cast a shielding charm.

She raised the dropper and carefully administered three drops.

**BOOM!** A huge explosion rocked the dungeons and Noira found herself completely covered in purple glop. "You bastard! You handed me the wrong bottle on purpose."

_Heh, you bet I did… "_Perhaps you should read the labels."

Noira's eyes flashed in anger as a wave of sparks erupted around her. Snape saw in her eyes all of the rage of the Furies themselves.

_Oh shite_. He quickly grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. "Staffroom!" He popped out into the staff room, quite content with himself. _That'll teach her,_ he grinned evilly.

He saw that McGonagall and Hadley were already in the staffroom playing chess. "Severus," they greeted him. McGonagall gave him a questioning look usually reserved for an out of bounds student.

"Fancied a jaunt from your dungeons?" she enquired.

He smirked in return, "Yes, I finished counting all the stones and thought I'd move on to a new wall."

He noticed that Hadley's gaze was directed towards the hems of his robes. He looked down, "What is it, Hadley?"

Hadley was still staring at the hem. "Why is there purple gunk dripping from your robes?"

He raised an eyebrow and looked sceptically down at the hems_. I made sure I stood so I wouldn't get any on me; in fact I was sure there wasn't any there before I went through the Floo._ He shook the hem, trying to knock some of it off, and…_that blob is in the shape of a hand print_. He looked at it closer. _That blob **is** a hand print_.

He never noticed when McGonagall and Hadley had gone silent. He did, however, notice the light touch of a hand on his shoulder. Snape turned just in time to see a purple, gloppy fist connect with his left jaw. Stars travelled through his skull as his head snapped back in shock. He was seething when his head stopped spinning and he caught sight of Noira's glowing yellow eyes. _That infuriating hag punched me_.

Her upper half was completely covered in the purple potion and her eyes blazed with fury. "And don't act like you didn't see that coming, especially since I am such an _infuriating hag._" she snarled and launched herself at him once more.

_How did she know…? Oh, I've called her that before. _"You know, I would never hit a woman, but for you I'll make an exception," he sneered. He readied for her attack by pulling out his wand.

In the background, McGonagall and Hadley had finally gotten over their astonishment and belatedly sprang into action. McGonagall approached the two snarling demons with her sternest expression, guaranteed to put fear into the hearts of students everywhere.

"Severus, Noira, stop this right now."

They ignored her, kept circling, and Snape threw a petrifying jinx that Noira swiftly dodged.

McGonagall was furious at being ignored. "This behaviour is completely unbecoming for staff members. You are on the same side!" she snapped.

Noira had pulled out her lasso and hooked Snape's wand hand, yanking the rope tight and pulling him off his feet.

"_Serpentsortia!"_ A huge snake sprang from Snape's wand before he was yanked off of his feet, dropping his wand. The snake slithered its way towards Noira, distracting her, and Snape untied his wrist after she dropped the rope to launch a fireball in his direction.

McGonagall stomped her foot and pulled out her own wand. "Severus Snape! You get rid of that snake this instant. Noira Rohal! Stop throwing fire!" Her lips were pursed at the ungodly display of temper before her_. Better stop this before they destroy the staffroom, let alone themselves._ "Jeremiah, go get Albus."

Jeremiah left the room almost before she had finished giving instructions, nearly flattening Dolores Umbridge in the doorway. Minerva rubbed her temples. _This is not going to end well_.

Umbridge pursed her lips. "_Hem, hem_. This," she said, "shall be going on your evaluations. Hmph." She turned and left the room.

Meanwhile, Snape and Noira had actually stopped long enough to hear what she had said. If Minerva thought that they would stop, she had another thing coming.

"It's your fault!" they yelled out at almost the exact same time.

"You little ingrate," he hissed.

"You pompous excuse of a man." They looked like they were about to get physical, _again._

Dumbledore came in with an expression like thunder. "Stop acting like the schoolchildren you teach," he admonished them.

"He was the one who _purposefully_ exploded the potion!" Noira yelled in exasperation.

"You're the one who left my back looking as black as a plum," Snape launched back.

"If you hadn't snuck up on me..."

"If you hadn't…"

"**ENOUGH!" **Dumbledore boomed. "And since you insist on acting like immature adolescents, you shall receive the exact same punishment as any other student caught duelling in the halls."

He folded his arms as he looked down at them from over his half-moon spectacles. "Detention. You two will be cleaning the Trophy Room, since I know how much you loved that particular punishment." He looked towards Severus as he said the last part.

Dumbledore led them from the staff room as they trailed behind grumbling at one another. He stopped once he had reached the Trophy Room, just past the Hospital wing and the Charms classroom.

As they all stepped into the room, Noira still covered in purple sludge, Dumbledore turned to face them. "You will clean this entire room and polish every surface, _without _magic. _Accio_ Snape's wand."

Snape reached to grab it, but it was already too late. Dumbledore pocketed the wand and stared them down once more.

"No magic… and Noira, since you have no wand for me to take, you are honour bound to follow the same rules. You will not leave this room until you have completed your task, and the elves will gladly provide you with any supplies you should need. Be glad I'm not docking your pay, as well." With a flick of his wrist, he graciously unlocked all of the cases. Dumbledore turned with a snap and headed to the door. "Begin."

Noira called out to the retreating figure, "Can I not get this gunk off first?"

"No," and the door slammed shut.

Cases of trophies covered every wall, and the windows were grimy where the students were not tall enough to clean them. A patina of dust had gathered on every surface over the summer, and the floors were dirty from where students had flounced over them.

They stared at each other, daring the other to make the first move, when they were startled by the sudden intrusion of mops, buckets, and other cleaning sundries in the centre of the floor. Snape snapped up a mop and kicked Noira a brush. She grabbed it and prepared a scathing retort for his attitude when a pair of ladders appeared right in between them. She bit back her retort and substituted another, "Well, at least now we'll be able to reach the windows."

She got a harrumph in response.

They grudgingly got to work. Noira had taken off her boots and tucked her skirts into her belt so she could scrub the floor without damaging the fabrics more than the potion had done already. _Might as well just dye them purple. _Finding a bucket of clean water, she scrubbed off what potion she could of her face and arms. Snape had grabbed some cloths and metal polish, and had begun polishing the nearest trophies.

"_Hmph."_ Snape had found the plaques commemorating Slytherin's seven-year winning streak against Gryffindor. _Ah, those were the years…stupid Potter, wrecking our record. McGonagall's been insufferable as well. _He put down the plaque and moved on to another.

After awhile, Noira had worked herself into a corner when she felt a dark shadow standing above her. She looked up…

"Move." It was Snape, of course.

She rolled her eyes. "No, you can wait until I'm done."

Snape glared down at her. "Miss Rohal,"

"That's Professor to you." She responded.

"Move or I'll…" He stopped, entranced by the sudden brightness of her eyes.

Noira was humming to him under her breath. _How do you like that, eh? Now hop on one foot while dancing like a chicken._

For a reason unknown to him, Snape suddenly had the urge to hop on one foot and dance like a chicken. How fun! _"Bak-bgawk!"_

"**I SAID NO MAGIC!"** A voice thundered from every corner of the room.

Noira cringed and began scrubbing once more. Snape's eyes unglazed and he had the faint recollection of thinking about something having to do with chickens. "What did you do?" he snapped at her.

Noira smiled innocently through her lashes at him. "I was tempted to charm the brush to scrub the floor for me."

Snape snorted in response and stepped around her. "Right, just stay out of my way."

_Right, you royal pain-in-the-arse._ Noira got up to retrieve the ladder to clean the windows.

Snape held the ladder while Noira had climbed up to clean the window. "I refuse to clamber about like some monkey," he had said. Unfortunately for him (or fortunately, depending on your point of view), his current position gave him a rather nice view of his female companion's legs, right…in his face. Her legs were bare since she had removed her boots, and he noticed that due to the way her skirt was hiked up, he only had to lean forward a little to catch a glimpse of her thigh…_Stop it. Stop it now._ He shook his head to clear that picture. _Glamour, it's a bleeding glamour…besides, you hate her and she hates you. That will never happen. _Even so, Snape was hard pressed to turn his attention away from the way every last muscle would move as she stretched and stood lightly on her toes. He sincerely did not need a distraction.

_Splash!_

And that was why.

"Oops." Noira said as she glanced down at the now sopping wet Potions Master. The bucket she had been using to hold the suds had fallen off the ladder, and right onto Snape's head. She burst out laughing when she saw the state he was now in. Snape was drenched and his hair was plastered to his face, his voluminous robes clung to his frame and were twice as heavy when wet. He growled and pushed the offending locks aside before glaring up at her with calculation.

"Well, at least you can say you washed your hair for the week," she smirked.

_That little bitch…_Noira stopped laughing when she saw the anger etched upon his face. With one swift movement, Snape struck out his arm and knocked the ladder out from under the stunned Tirnai.

_No longer funny, is it?_ Noira rolled when she hit the ground and she stood slowly to face the wizard. They growled, looking very much like a pair of bristling alley cats. Neither knew who had made the first move, but each grabbed for the other before slipping and falling in a tangled pile of limbs. Noira reached for his neck like she was going to throttle him. Snape reacted quickly and rolled out of her way as she threw herself at him. She fell to the ground, tripping on her skirt, and Snape took the opportunity to pin her to the ground.

"Get off of me, you oaf!" He grinned at her triumphantly as she wriggled uselessly under him. With a devious gleam in his eyes, Snape reached for the full bucket next to them.

"Here," he purred at her, "let me help you get that potion off." And with that, he dumped the bucket right onto the sputtering woman's face.

"Alright, that is _it_, Snape!" she pushed him off of her and the resumed the fight for dominance. They rolled across the floor, slipping and sliding across the wet surface. Snape fought underhandedly, in the usual Slytherin way; he had removed his robes, leaving him in only his shirt and pants, as Noira had to contend with her long skirts, soaking wet and impeding her struggle. Her body was slippery due to the soap as Snape tried to get a hold of her, oblivious to the fact that he was digging his fingers into her hips. Noira countered by wrapping her legs around his and flipping him over.

Neither had noticed that the door to the room had opened; they rolled out of it and found themselves in the middle of the hall.

Snape had pinned her face down to the ground. "You're lucky I don't have my wand or I'd hex you so many ways…"

He was interrupted by Noira jabbing a foot dangerously close to his crotch, causing him to jump, and her to knock him off. She pinned him with an elbow digging into his side. She hissed, inches from his face, "You're lucky I'm honour bound to not use magic or I'd…"

The beginning of her diatribe was interrupted by a booming voice from above them. "Yet you have both forgotten you are honour bound _not to fight._" The disappointment was so palpable in his calm tone, it was worse than if he were yelling.

The pair looked up to see his angry blue eyes, _not twinkling._ Their eyes widened as one. _Oh shite. We're done for._ They then took in the wide-eyed stares from all of the students heading to lunch, and the fact that they were in the middle of the hall.

The students were staring at them in complete shock at the sight of two teachers tangled in one another, clothes torn, breathing heavily, and soaked to the bone. Snape and Noira suddenly realized just how intimately close they were to one another. With a sputtered yell of surprise, they scrambled off of each other as some of the older students sniggered in the background.

"Follow me."

They followed shame-faced behind Dumbledore, throwing each other dark glances and occasional elbows.

Dumbledore turned to face them with a snap. "Can't you two keep your hands off one another for—_no_…"

Snape did not like the bright gleam in his eyes. They went into the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore moved to stand behind his desk. "Severus Tobias Snape," he addressed the wizard, shaking his head, "you should know better."

Noira had a smug look on her face which quickly wiped off as he turned to face her. "And you, Noira Gita Rohal, your father spoke so highly of you." _Oh, full names hurt, but at least it wasn't her True Name._

"Tsk, tsk, fighting like four year olds. Now what to do with you, since you couldn't even last through a simple detention?"

The two shrank down in shame. "Stick out your right arms." He flicked his wand and an ornate silver bracelet appeared on both of their right wrists. As he tapped each bracelet, it shrank until it could no longer slide off, and it looked like they were designed to stay that way too. At this, Noira and Snape exchanged worried glances.

The Headmaster stood tall once more and put his wand back into his sleeve. He looked down over his glasses at them. "These will stay on for3 weeks, but the charm will temporarily fail when you are summoned, Severus. And your class schedules will be adjusted accordingly."

_What the hell? _They were both now thoroughly confused.

"Have fun," he told them as he pushed them out the door.

* * *

A/N: Detention plot bunny has been borrowed through the generous permission of Cearrae27 (suitably changed for my purposes, of course). 


	10. You're in my Personal Space

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

**You're in My Personal Space**

_The Headmaster stood tall once more and put his wand back into his sleeve. He looked down over his glasses at them. "These will stay on for 3 weeks, but the charm will temporarily fail when you are summoned, Severus. And your class schedules will be adjusted accordingly."_

What the hell?_ They were both now thoroughly confused._

"_Have fun," he told them as he pushed them out the door. _

oOoOo

The door shut behind them and they were confused as they headed down the spiral staircase.

"What the hell was that?" Snape asked.

"I have no idea."

They stopped and suddenly remembered that they were mad at each other. They snapped and faced each other with a glare and a snarl.

"Well, since I am still sopping wet thanks to you and …_purple," _Noira hissed, "I am going to go change."

"Do you think I'm any better off with you and your _accidental _bucket drop?" Snape asks incredulously.

With a final glare they turn and head in opposite directions.

_**Two seconds later:** _

WHAM! They found themselves swept off their feet, slammed together, and sprawled on the floor.

They swore and hastily separated and stood once more. Snape brushed off his sodden robes and turned off in the direction of the dungeons. Without a second glance, Noira followed suit and headed off to her own room.

This time, Noira felt the tug coming from behind her navel. Her eyes widened, _oh hell._

Once again, they found themselves in a tangled pile of limbs and drenched clothes.

Their faces were inches apart as they looked angrily at one another, panting.

"It…seems…we have…to stay…"

"Next…to one…another."

The pair backed away slowly from one another, one step at a time. When they got two metres apart, Noira felt the tug behind her navel again. "Stop!" She yelled out, "That is as far as we can go."

Snape cursed, "That old—_hic—_conniving—_hic—_bastard."

Noira asked of no one in particular, "Why?" _What deity did I offend to deserve this?_

They looked at each other again; Noira fumed while Snape kept hiccoughing.

"Fine, _hic_. Whereto first?"

Noira answered "My chambers, they're closer and on the way to yours."

They headed that way in a huff. She lowered her wards and stopped on her way in. She turned with amusement to face Snape. "You hiccough when you're angry," she smirked. At that statement, his face flushed red for a moment and he suppressed another hiccough as he gave her the coldest gaze imaginable. _Yeesh, never mind._ With that, she headed through the door, with Snape following close behind.

Noira went to her wardrobe and yanked out the first thing she saw. She went off to the bathroom to shower and change. Snape posted himself right outside the door and Noira went in, shutting the door behind her.

BAM! They each slammed into opposite sides of the door before it slowly opened with a squeak. They looked at the slowly opening door. _I swear that thing is squeaking just to mock me._ Once it stopped, they glanced up at one another.

Snape rolled his eyes and his voice dripped with sarcasm. "Well, I guess we can't close doors either." He looked at Noira, expecting her to yell at him, and instead he was shocked to see her lip quivering and her eyes tearing up. _Oh no, _he thought, _I can handle bitchy, killer Noira, but she'd better not start crying on me._

Noira dumped the dress she was carrying and stalked out of the bathroom. Snape followed quickly behind her as he was unwilling to be body slammed for _what, the fifth time in the past ten minutes?_ He saw her grab a phial from a drawer in her nightstand and collect the pearly, luminescent tears dripping down her cheeks. Snape was disturbed by her tears; he didn't know what to do and he had _no_ idea what she was doing.

She looked up at him in her frustration. She gestured towards the now filled phial, "Powerful potions ingredient, this is. If I am going to cry over the pointless, I might as well put it to good use."

Snape, still unsure of himself, hesitantly handed her a handkerchief. "Stop it. You're already soggy as is." The corner of her mouth twitched upwards and she wiped her eyes and handed the handkerchief back, along with the phial of tears.

Snape glanced inquiringly at the vial as he took it.

"Take it; test it if you want to know what it is. _Doshe_ knows you think you are smart enough."

Snape bit his tongue to avoid snarking back, so he just sighed as he followed her back to the bathroom to just see her stop and stand there. His voice broke the silence. "Since you are so concerned, I promise I will not look at you, nor anywhere that direction until you come out."

"Excellent." And with that, she took her shower. Noira washed herself slowly, taking extra care in cleaning her long hair, just because she knew that there was a wet, shivering wizard waiting for her to hurry up. When she had towelled off, she donned her dress.

She came out of the bathroom to see a shivering Snape glaring at her. "Took you long enough."

She smirked at him condescendingly, "My word Severus, I do believe you wizards have something known as a warming charm."

She laughed on the inside as she saw him clench and unclench his fists. She heard him mutter, "_If Dumbledore had given me my bloody wand back…"_

Before she could no longer contain herself, Noira turned and headed for the door out of her chambers. Snape followed closely behind, and they headed for the dungeons.

After Snape had changed, and found his wand—oddly enough it was on the mantle above the fireplace, and performed a simple cleansing charm (he did not want to leave her alone too long in his rooms, even though she couldn't go anywhere), he walked into his sitting room and Noira sat on the chair opposing his. He had seen so many of her moods today that he didn't know quite to expect when they sat down.

They stared at each other in silence waiting for the other to make the first move. They were spared the ordeal when Snape's fire turned green and out spat two envelopes. Noira deftly snatched hers from the air. They both opened their letters and found them to be identical.

_Noira and Severus,_

_You have no doubt figured out the specifics of your enchantment, and it will last the three full weeks. As promised, here are your new class schedules. This required a bit of juggling on the part of your colleagues, and I expect you to give them your sincerest appreciation. You have more than likely realized that you will have to attend all of your counterpart's classes as well as your own, as well as share offices. Your fellow educators are also under the assumption that each of you required an assistant, and that I assigned your counterpart as such. I have had the elves prepare an office for the two of you, and of course, sleeping arrangements, and arrangements for all other mundane tasks (eating, bathing, etc.) are all up to you. _

_Enjoy your temporary cohabitation,_

_Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore_

_That conniving, infuriating, senile, interfering excuse of a wizard! _With a screech, Noira crumpled up her letter before purposefully bursting it into flames. Snape furiously chucked his copy at her as well. "Burn mine while you're at it; this time I'm done reading it." Noira gladly obliged.

They stared at each other in silence…again.

"What do you propose we do?"

Snape traced his mouth in thought, and leaned back into the couch. "We will play his game, but remember," he raised his hand, "we hold the ace. For if he thinks he's won, this enchantment is sure to end."

"I'm listening, go on."

"Meanwhile, we will try every trick, every spell, every book. Deep inside those tomes, the answer must lie."

"Fine, then a truce for now, yes?" Noira stood and waited for Snape to do the same.

He watched her warily, before he stood as well. They bowed slowly to one another in acknowledgement of their new arrangement.

"So," Noira started in a falsely cheery voice, "What are we going to do about these 'mundane tasks,' as Dumbledore put it?"

Snape jumped with a start. "Merlin's beard! Did you burn your schedule?"

"No, I'm actually able to think while in a blinding rage…Don't tell me, you wadded it up with the letter when I burned it."

Snape gave no answer in response. At his obvious attempt at hiding guilt, Noira burst out laughing.

Snape threw a book at her. "Noira, stop laughing at me, _woman!"_ The moment the book left his hand, it swept around like a boomerang before striking him soundly in the back of the head. "Damn it!"

"It seems we've found another tangle in the enchantment." She snickered.

He gave her a look that would melt steel before striding away.

"No!"

It was too late. This time, Noira was the one getting body slammed as Snape landed on top of her, crushing her into the floor. "Oomph." She had the wind knocked out of her from his landing.

"You know," he said, "This is an excellent time for you to become a missing person."

She could feel the weight of his hips digging into hers, sparking a thrill she really didn't want. He was really way to close to her, and it was getting old. She shoved him off of her. "Do not tempt me to make that your fate as well."

"Alright, who's sleeping where?"

After much arguing, they finally agreed to alternate nights in the other's rooms. Tonight, by Snape's overwhelming opinion (or the simple fact that she was tired of arguing), Noira agreed to stay in his rooms.

The rooms were rather Spartan in comparison to the other rooms in the castle, but there was nothing she could say against their functionality—it was the only thing they had. Noira looked around and saw the large and comfortable-looking bed against the wall of his bedroom. There was obviously space for two people, and neither would have to touch one another. But why settle for that? She had a mischievous grin as she decided her course of action. There was a convenient stack of quilts and blankets on the shelf right by the door. Instead of picking a side, she went and spread out a pallet of those quilts on the floor beside the bed.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked.

"It is your bed, and you are going to be sleeping in it."

"Don't be daft, woman. I'll sleep on the damn floor."

"Ah," she crooned, "now we decide to be a gentleman. But still," she sighed for effect, "I will be quite happy on the cold, damp, dungeon floor."

Snape wiped his face in aggravation. "Get. On. The. Bloody. Bed."

"Alright." And with that, she sprightly hopped to the bed. "Goodnight, Severus."

Snape gritted his teeth, _how the hell did she talk me into that? _Out loud: "Goodnight…_hic…_Noira."

* * *

_**Reference to POTO, "We have all been blind", because I can… **_


	11. Insinuations

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

**Insinuations**

Snuggled deep into the large, soft bed, Noira woke well rested, and stretched under the warm comfort of the many blankets smothering herHow glad she was to have been warm; she _hated_ the cold.And she was pretty sure she had to only warm spot in the entire dungeon.

Snape, however, had not fared so well. His night on the floor had left him with a backache, and he was stiff enough to rival any petrification hex. Noira looked over the edge of the bed to see him.

"That is the _last_ time I sleep down here," he stated grumpily.

She looked down to where he lay and saw that his hair was dishevelled and his clothes wrinkled; he hadn't even removed his shirt to sleep simply because he had to share his room.

_Someone's not a morning person. _She smirked at him. "Silly, I never made you sleep down there; you are the one who suggested it." Snape opened his mouth to refute…_damn, she's right. _Cunning was a trait he usually admired, as long as it wasn't directed at him.

"Don't expect a repeat performance."

Noira noticed the house elves have provided her with a set of clothes. _How courteous. Now if they could only get me the counter-curse, then I would really be set. _

_Damn you._ Snape headed to bathroom and Noira followed behind him. He got there first and smirked as he grabbed the door handle.

"No, do not close the…ouch!" They were both slammed into door. "Idiot!"

Snape growled in response and took care of business as Noira leaned against the wall waiting_. I cannot believe I am doing this._ They eventually traded positions, and after a few minutes, Noira came out, rolled her wrists and clapped-- her clothes were changed.

"It takes less effort with a wand." Snape commented.

"But this way is so much more fun."

oOoOo

During Potions class, Noira had no choice but to follow Snape like a shadow, trying not to trip on his billowing robes. _Can he not just be normal and not billow?_

oOoOo

"What's she doing?" Ron asked. "I can't believe Snape's letting her follow him around like that."

Seamus leaned over his table when Snape was on the other side of the room. "I heard that they were caught snogging in the hall yesterday before lunch."

"Eww…gross, why would anyone want to snog that greasy git?"

"But that's not what I saw."

They sat up and paused to let Snape inspect their cauldrons. Harry desperately tried to look busy. _Ah, that's right, time to add the lacewings_. Noira grabbed his wrist right before he dropped them. "Not before the dandelion sprouts." She then released his wrist.

"Five points from Gryffindor for not paying attention," Snape said.

After he had moved away to almost the limit of their bond, Noira whispered. "Five points to Gryffindor for stopping in time." She winked and walked on.

Harry and Ron leaned back once more. "What'd you see?"

"Remember that trail of water coming from the Trophy Room?"

"Yeah."

"That was them. I remember, 'cause I'd just come from Flitwick's class. You guys had stayed late and missed it."

"And?"

"So anyways, the rest of us were all headin' down to the Hall for lunch, and they were on the floor, wrapped around one another, and _completely soaking wet!_"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah…" Seamus leaned in closer. "They looked like they had been shaggin' with how their clothes were all torn. Dumbledore was livid. I'd never seen him that way before…" At this Ron turned green and Harry had a coughing fit.

"Eww. Nasty… Snape?"

Ron gasped, "There's not a Pensieve big enough to hold that image. Thanks a bunch Seamus."

Hermione had heard enough, and she leaned over. "You have better things to do than gossip about the professors."

"But Hermione…"

"No, Ron, get to work before Professor Snape hears you…"

Snape loomed over them and Harry and Ron gulped nervously. "Something you'd like to share with the class Miss Granger?"

"No sir." She tried to keep a straight expression and Snape narrowed his eyes before walking on. Noira passed them by with a look of puzzlement on her face.

oOoOo

Lunch had ended and the Gryffindors made their way towards Music.

They walked through the door and immediately skidded to a halt. "What the bloody hell is he doing here?" gasped Ron.

Harry stopped behind the others; he couldn't see through them. "Who are you talking about?"

"Snape!" exclaimed Ron.

Professor Rohal was sitting behind her desk, and right next to her was the black bat of the dungeons. "Didn't we just leave his class?"

Seamus whispered obnoxiously in their ears. "Gives more credence to the shagging theory, doesn't it?"

"Seamus! Nobody wants to know!"

"Sorry."

oOoOo

Noira had been watching them come in. _They were talking about yesterday._ _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

"Stop that." Her self-flagellation was interrupted by Snape's voice and she looked up at his stupid, sneering face. "Stop hitting yourself; it's annoying." Noira gritted her teeth and struggled to look away. _I will not fight, I will not start._

The rest of the class had filed in, so she stood to start class. They instantly quieted. "Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Professor Rohal." Noira sent a triumphant smirk in Snape's direction. _Clearly, fear isn't everything._

She began her lecture. "These past few weeks have been merely an introduction to the power," the Slytherins sat up taller, "the majesty," the Gryffindors grew prouder, "that music can bestow upon its wielder." She began to walk about the room. "All of you need to write this down. You will note that there is no chapter for you to read on the subject, no journal that you can peruse. The tradition of a mage's first instrument is a practice that has been handed out orally from generation to generation. Here is what you will do: you will each create your own instrument, one based upon the Greek psalterion. Most of you probably have no idea what a psalterion is, so I shall describe it for you. A psalterion is a small stringed instrument that can fit in your lap, and is usually trapezoidal in shape. The strings are stretched across the surface of the sound box, and attached with pegs. The earliest psalteries had gut strings. Later steel strings were added for a louder, brighter sound. We shall be using gut. Unlike the modern psaltery, this one is played with your fingertips as opposed to a bow, and is comprised of ten to twelve strings instead of thirty or more. The psalterion was a favourite of the ancient Greeks, and the Hebrews as well. Truthfully, it is one of the simplest stringed instruments to make. She stopped to contemplate her class, "And if you are successful in creating your own psalterion, if the music is true, yours will be a power still higher." Noira walked back up to her stool at the front of the room.

Daphne Greengrass raised her hand. "Where does the magic come from, the instrument or the person using it?"

"Excellent question." Noira addressed the class, "So where, indeed, does the source of music lie? Is it in the strings themselves? Or in the hand that plucks them?"

She smiled. "Many of you already know the answer, but do not yet realize that you have it in you." Noira then grew serious. "I must warn you; this project can only be undertaken once in the lifetime of any wizard, witch, sorcerer, or mage. If you fail, if the music does not spring forth of its own accord, there will be **no second chances**. But never fear; this instrument is very hard to design incorrectly. If you apply yourselves to the challenge, there is no way to go wrong. The only way to fail is to not complete the project."

Snape finally spoke. "A question, Professor."

"Of course."

"What is the historical basis of this project you will have them undertake?"

"The creation of a wizard's first instrument has existed for over a thousand years, and presumably a thousand before that."

He frowned, "How do you say?"

"Outside of my country, it is believed that Merlin was the last western wizard to complete this project as one of his studies of magic."

The class gasped excitedly at the implications. "Merlin? Merlin made one of these?"

"Yes, you will be following in the footsteps of your greatest patriarch. The practice of lyrical magic fell out of favour with the perfection of wands, but my country has maintained the practice, and is stronger because of it…"

_So that is why Dumbledore has her here, to teach them lyrical magic,_ _but disguised as a music class. I knew her Tirnai music was powerful._ He shuddered at the thought of the Tha'abas' eyes on that day._ But damn, I didn't realize it was lyrical magic… that is notoriously subtle, it could sweep you off your feet and you'd never know. It works almost like the Imperius Curse, but it controls emotions instead of actions. Why didn't I realize this earlier? She had been teaching them this all along. Lyrical magic is nearly untraceable and almost impossible to counter without knowledge of the same… the ministry would…Ah, of course, which is why he did not want the ministry to know. They would ban it outright, and he probably plans to use the knowledge for the Order, but why would he have it taught to a bunch of brats? And what does she mean by 'a power still higher?' _

Noira noticed Snape eyeing her intently. "Would you like to try your hand as well, Professor?"

He looked at her like she was crazy. "As much as I admire the art of Euterpe, I'm afraid I have more pressing matters to tend to."

She knew he was being stubborn. She eyed him back, smirking, _not while we're joined at the hip_, and said, "Suit yourself."

While she had the students working on their designs, she walked around the room, Snape shadowing her just as she'd done to him earlier: making corrections, giving suggestions, occasionally giving or taking away house points, when she realized there was definitely something odd about today's class.

They were whispering and making comments every time she and Snape passed by. The Slytherins were the worst, especially Mr. Malfoy and his cronies, who leered at her openly and laughed every time she passed. When had she lost control of her class? She felt Draco's eyes on her back and she spun around. "Something I can help you with, Mr. Malfoy?"

She saw him quickly hide a bit a parchment under the stack on his desk. Narrowing her eyes, she approached his desk and waved her hand over the stack of parchment. The note in question zoomed from the middle of the stack into her hand.

Unfolding the note, she began to read. "Did you see the --- on Rohal? I wonder how Snape gets her to—I'd like to—" She abruptly stopped reading and became chalky white before flushing red with anger. Not even sparing the note a second glance, she tossed it at Snape and cornered Draco at his desk.

As Noira read, the rest of the Slytherins sniggered around Draco. Snape raised a questioning eyebrow in silent warning that the next words out of Malfoy's mouth had better be a good explanation of whatever was in that note.

"Explain."

"Well, Professor, I believe that parchment is self-explanatory."

_Self-explanatory? _Snape finally opened the note and read it. '_I wonder how Snape gets her to bed him. I'd like to have a go at her myself. Wonder if she has a thing for younger men as well…' _Bloody hell. Snape could have choked on the boy's stupidity. Did the brat really think his presence granted him immunity from _everything?_

Noira was hard pressed not to bare her fangs as she leaned forward until she and Draco were eye to eye. "One hundred points from Slytherin for insulting a teacher and spreading such slander. You will have detention with Filch for the next four weeks, every day, at eight in the evening. She leaned in closer. "I do not know what you are insinuating Mr. Malfoy, but if you ever pull a stunt like that again, you will _beg_ for my forgiveness. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco's smirk faded, but he still answered her with a defiant tone. "Yes, Professor."

"Good. Now get out and head back to your common room. I _will _know if you take a detour."

Draco was shocked that he was actually being kicked out _and_ with Snape watching. He looked pleadingly at his Head of House.

_Idiot brat. _Snape rolled his eyes. He then flashed his eyes in warning at Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, that was extremely uncalled for. You will stay for now, and I will deal with you _personally. _You will have detention with Professor McGonagall tonight." _And it will not be pleasant. _

Noira seethed as she turned to face Snape. "May I have a word with you, Professor?"

She didn't even wait for an answer as she passed him and made her way to her office. "Malfoy, stay in your seat and the rest of you continue on your project."

She shut the door once they were both inside. "What do you think you are achieving by usurping my authority? Back at home, if a student had even dared to be so bold as to suggest what that slug just did, he would have been removed _permanently_."

_Isn't this a turn around from a few weeks ago? _"Well, this isn't home, is it? You will shorten his detentions."

"No. That crude little…"

Snape hissed as he grabbed her shoulders. "Listen, Rohal, I do not know how safe you think you are here at Hogwarts, but the Malfoys are not enemies you would like to make. They have ways of breaking people that even a warrior like you would cower to."

"Why do you say so?"

_Hell, _he walked right into that one. Snape debated with himself over how much he could tell her. How much had the Headmaster told her? Snape hadn't been with her every time. Yet, she seemed to take this entire situation seriously so far; perhaps he needed to give her more credit as far as her intelligence went. He chose his words carefully. "There are several sides to this conflict: those who support…the Dark Lord, those who oppose him, and those who refuse to believe that danger is nigh. The Malfoys belong to the first group. Do you understand what that means?"

She looked unsure of herself as she answered. "Yes...you mean that they are Death Eaters." She looked confused. "But, the boy does not bear the mark."

_What? How could she know that?_ His black eyes glittered as he brought himself closer to her, leaving her no room for escape. "Explain."

"Well, I do not feel the darkness on him…like I do on you." He saw her gasp as if she revealed something she shouldn't have.

What is she hiding now? _"_What games are you playing, Rohal?" He grasped her arms even tighter.

She took a step back, trying to release herself from his grip. "Dumbledore explained to me that there are certain students I should be careful around, besides the staff I must avoid. I know there are only two groups I must worry about here, and that is the Ministry and the Death Eaters…" He sensed there was something else, and waited for her to say it. "Besides, I saw the mark last night while you were asleep. I did not tell anyone about what I saw; Dumbledore seems to trust you in spite of it."

_Fucking hell._ He stared at her darkly and tried to pierce her mind to search for the truth. Surprisingly, she let him. He saw glimpses of conversations with the Tha'abas, and something having to do with darkness and light. He didn't get too far before she had let loose a mental surge to knock him out of her mind. This angered him more than if she had simply kept him out completely. He found her to be too trusting to let him in as far as he had gotten.

He pushed her back until he had her pinned against a bookcase. "So what if Dumbledore trusts me? It doesn't mean you should. You, especially as royalty, should know that you can trust no one but yourself. I don't know if we should even trust you with your naiveté. Why did you even let me see your thoughts? Perhaps I should speak to Dumbledore and have you shipped back home as a danger to his cause…" He had a sudden revelation about what she had said. "You said you could feel the mark?"

He saw the distrust in her eyes, and thought it was about time. "I do not know if my father explained this…We Tirnai can see the threads of magic in every creature, every thing. It is a simple matter of reaching out and feeling for the darker strands, the sinister strands that choke and hinder the others. I do not feel it in any of my students, but I felt it in you."

That was actually quite useful: a walking, talking, Dark Detector. "We just might have a use for you yet." Deciding to return to the original reason behind their conversation, he released her and said, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy was undeniably crude earlier, but it is imperative that I am the one to punish him. There are certain things I must do that you will find unsavoury or unjust, but there is a reason for it. Do you understand?"

Noira rubbed her arms where he had held her. "Yes." He could see she didn't like the idea.

Snape looked her over carefully, gauging her sincerity with narrowed eyes as he walked around her, forcing her to turn to keep him in sight. "You will shorten the length of his detentions?" it was as much of a request as a command.

"Fine, as long as you stop interfering in my classes."

"And you awarding points behind my back wasn't interfering?" he countered.

She winced. "Yes, it was."

_So she admits it, eh? _"I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that," he gloated.

"_Yes, it was."_ He smirked at her grudging response.

oOoOo

Neville sat as his desk, stuck. He had no idea what he was supposed to do next for his psaltery design, especially since he didn't remember how many strings to put, and there wasn't even a book to turn to. He had tried to ask Hermione, but unlike in Potions, she did not sit near him and looked far to engrossed in her work to be bothered. He glanced nervously at the door the two professors had disappeared behind, and wondered if he should wait for them to come out. Professor Rohal had said she wanted their preliminary sketch done by today. True, they would undoubtedly be doing hundreds of sketches, but he really wanted to get this one right. He sat there for another few minutes before deciding that he really needed to ask her. He went to the door to knock and heard raised voices coming from the inside.

"_Severus, if you want to sleep in my bed tonight…"_ He blanched before becoming a nauseous green. _I… think I'll wait._ He hurriedly went to sit back down.

oOoOo

Snape crossed his arms and leaned against her desk. "Now that we're having this charming tête-à-tête, is there anything else bothering that little mind of yours?"

He saw her eyes flash briefly at his choice of words. "Well, this could have waited till later, but since you asked so graciously, what are the sleeping arrangements for tonight?" Noira asked.

_Oh, no. _Snape knew where this one was going. "I am _not_ sleeping on the floor again."

"Then we have to go by McGonagall's study and see if she can transfigure my bed larger for us." It was nowhere near large enough for the two of them to lie down without touching.

"_Nor _are we going to McGonagall's study." He was not about to let McGonagall know about their situation. As far as the rest of the staff knew, Noira had been assigned the additional position of being his assistant, and would need to attend all of his classes. He was happy to leave it at that.

Noira sighed at his petulant refusal. "Severus, if you want to sleep _in_ my bed tonight, as opposed to _on _the floor, we could at least have Dumbledore do it, since this bright plan was all his idea."

Snape winced as he remembered how badly his back had hurt this morning. Hell, he had taken a pain potion and a muscle relaxant and it still bothered him. He grudgingly conceded, and gave a long-suffering sigh, "Fine. We'll go see Dumbledore."

"Fine." They glared at each other awkwardly for a while. "I should get back to my class."

"You do that."

With one final glare she opened the door and walked out, Snape trailing behind.

oOoOo

When Noira came out of her office, she saw Neville waiting patiently at his desk for her. "Did you have a question, Mr. Longbottom?" She saw Neville stiffen in fear as Snape stood beside her. He nervously glanced between the two of them with apprehension, and what Noira could only identify as guilt in his eyes. What is going on now? "Mr. Longbottom…"

"Sorry, Professor, I didn't remember how many strings to put on the psaltery."

"Twelve strings, Mr. Longbottom." She moved on to peruse the class, her black shadow following closely behind her. And of course, the whispers she could never quite make out rushed about the room only to stop as she passed. At the front of the room, she stopped and looked towards the board. These next two weeks could not pass quickly enough.

* * *

_**Reference to T. A. Barron's "The Fires of Merlin"**_


	12. Vignettes of Conjoinedness

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

**Vignettes of Conjoinedness – An Interlude**

_A little bit of light-hearted fluffiness as our characters adjust._

**Day Two**

Confound it all, now they were sharing desks. Noira's was too far away and Snape's was just big enough to allow them each a side to work with.

Both of them had had been displeased to find their belongings scattered around by the house elves, and they had quite a time rearranging things to their liking. Needless to say, this required some effort since they could never move more than two metres from the other.

On top of all that, the room was dark with no windows. The best they could come up with was a pair of torches on the walls and candles on the desk. The light was barely enough to see the work in front of them. If they had been in another frame of mind, however, it could almost be called cosy; Snape wouldn't even allow himself to think the word _romantic._

Snape saw Noira put down her grading and stretch her arms. He returned to his own work in silence. He was distracted by her movement, and he watched out of the corner of his eye as she reached behind herself, and pulled out what he assumed was a violin. Rolling his eyes, he returned to his work, the only sound being the blessed silence of his quill.

_Snap!_ He winced at the sudden intrusion of noise. _Snap! Snap!_

He shot a dark look in her direction and saw that she was taking her violin out of its case. _Stupid chit…_He saw her mocking him with that arched brow of hers. He shuffled his papers and returned to his work.

_chhh, chhh, chhh, squee! chhh, squee! chhh, chhh!_

_What the sodding hell is that! _His head shot up. "Must you?"

She said nothing in response but kept at what she was doing.

_Hell. _She was rubbing rosin up and down the strings of her bow, and Snape knew exactly what was going to come next. With a grimace of barely concealed disgust, he turned back to his work. Seeing if he could upset her, he began muttered under his breath:

"The devil opened up _her_ case

And s_he_ said I'll start this show

And fire flew from _her_ fingertips

As _she_ rosined up _her_ bow

Then _she_ pulled the bow across the strings

And it made an evil hiss

And a band of demons joined in

And it sounded something like this…"

She had just raised the instrument to her chin and prepared a downstroke, when Snape's muttering cut across her consciousness. Her eyes narrowed as they blazed with light through the darkness of the room.

_Shite. _Snape could see her eyes blaze from where he sat. She looked three seconds short of becoming a demon out of hell; perhaps it wasn't the best thing for him to taunt her after all.

To his surprise (and relief—though he would never admit to it), she said nothing, but began playing as if he hadn't said a thing. The only concession to his comment was that the first sound she played _was_ an evil hiss. He gripped the quill fiercely in his hand as he tried to block out the grating noise.

He looked up just in time to see the vestiges of a satisfied expression flit across her face before she began to play. _Bitch._

The beginnings of a seductive tango flowed from the subtle movements of her wrist and bow. He watched for a few moments as she swayed with the melody before jarring himself back to reality and focused steadfastly on his work.

He returned to the third year's essay and prepared to slather it in red ink.

_This work is most pathetic, _

_The answer is so basic,_

_Your idiocy is chronic_

_You should go see a shrink._

_What the fuck was that!_ He looked down in disbelief at what he had just written. Why in Salazar's name was he writing in rhyme, and bad rhyme at that? Why was it so hot in there? Why did he picture himself throwing Rohal over her desk and …_Hell._ He knew what she was doing.

He grumpily threw down his quill and cursed when it splattered him with ink. He glared over to where she was playing. She innocently fluttered her lashes and gave him a saccharine smile.

_Stupid chit using her stupid music to mess with my mind! _

oOoOo

**Hot hands!**

Noira and Snape were entrenched in his private lab, scouring through his entire personal library to find the solution to their problem. Forget what Dumbledore had said, the bracelets were coming off!

Ever since that accursed binding, they had been searching for any reference to a binding bracelet, but found nothing that fit their current situation. They were starting to believe it didn't have a countercharm at all _(Curse you, Dumbledore)_, and would have to wear off with time. However, they did not want to wait. And, rarity-of-rarities that it was, they were working together without complaint—so far.

"We haven't tried fire yet," Snape eventually said.

"No, we have not." Noira looked thoughtful. "I may be able to heat my bracelet to weaken it, and then we could simply snap it off. The flames will not hurt me."

_Because you're bloody mental—**Ele**mental. Miss Rare-Magic, indeed. _"That sounds like a plan." He didn't see anything else they could do. Bringing them both to the sinks, Snape filled a cauldron with cool water and then carried it to the table at which they were working—just in case things didn't go according to plan.

"Alright, here I go." Noira created a small fireball in the palm of her left hand and coaxed the flame to tighten and condense into a blazing white light. She tipped her hand, directing the fireball to float to her other wrist, and proceeded to bring it closer and closer to the silver band…

"AH! FUCKING HELL!"

"What!" Noira dissipated the flames and looked up to see Snape up to his elbow in the cauldron of water, and steam rising from the surface. His eyes were screwed shut in pain, and he shuddered as he pulled his arm from the water.

"What?" she tried again.

He shot her a look that could kill and grimaced as he pulled back his burnt right sleeve. His wrist was burnt and the skin blistered where the bracelet had rested. All in all, it looked like it was painful. And lo and behold, his bracelet was intact, just as hers was.

Noira tsked and sighed, "Well, that was rather unfortunate." The fire had heated his bracelet as well as hers.

"_Unfortunate!"_ Snape was on the war path. "I'll give you fucking _unfortunate._ Go get the burn paste, now!"

She shot up and ran for the jar on his desk. Once she passed the two metre mark, Snape was jerked off his feet, where he knocked over the cauldron and dropped it on his toes, breaking several, before finally slamming into her. Once again, they were a sopping pile of fabric.

"_AAARRGH!"_

oOoOo

**Night Three, Midnight Rounds**

His wrist finally healed, Snape had risen from the bed, dressed, and walked closely around the mattress in order to stay well inside of their margin of movement. He stood over her motionless form as she slept. He leaned in close, until he was inches away from her ear.

"Get up, O Parasite-of-mine," he commanded loudly.

Noira's head shot up, almost banging him in the chin. "Wha…Why?" She struggled to gather her sleep-addled wits.

Snape took great glee in her confused state. He stood up straight and crossed his arms, careful of the bandage. "I have rounds to make, which I can't do if you insist on lazing about!"

"Ooh, someone has got their knickers in a knot…" He merely glared at her until she moved. "Oh, alright, I'm getting up."

oOo

They strode silently down the dark corridors, and up to the Astronomy Tower.

Noira was the first to speak, as she did not believe the burn to be her fault. _He_ had suggested they use fire, after all. "So, do you do this to actually catch the little miscreants, or is it out of some sick voyeuristic pleasure?" she asked nonchalantly.

His footsteps ground to a halt. Snape turned around and levelled his wand directly at her face. "Look, you trollop; say anything you want, but if you cast aspersions against my character one more time I will _give_ you the meaning of fear."

_He is so easy to rile up, _Noira thought. She valiantly tried to hide her smirk.

It was too late; he had seen her smile in the feint lumos-light. Gritting his teeth, he gripped his wand fiercely and spun on his heel. He took off with billowing robes, and Noira followed behind, chuckling silently to herself.

They were soon traipsing endlessly about the castle.

"Stop." Snape put his hand out to stop her when he heard a noise. He made a motion for her to hide, and she gleefully followed his instructions to the letter. She cloaked herself in glamour and became, for all intents and purposes, one with the wall.

Yes, that noise he heard? That was a pebble carefully tossed down the hall by his ever-so-innocent companion.

Snape listened closely for any other sound. The hall was dead silent; the only sound was of his carefully measured breathing. But, he knew that the students were dense enough to try to hold their breaths so he wouldn't hear them. All he had to do was wait for the desperate gasp of air he knew was sure to follow.

He turned silently to see where Noira was waiting for him. There she was…no she wasn't. He looked the other way; she wasn't there either.

He knew she had to be close; their connection only had a two metre diameter, but he didn't see a thing.

Alright, where is she?

"_Rohal?" _he whispered.

"_Noira... where the hell are you?" _he hissed.

There was not a sound.

He waited.

Complete silence.

…

…

…

…

…

…

…

"AAAWWWOOOOOOOOOO!"

"AAAAHHHHHHH!" Snape jumped about a metre in the air and screamed.

Noira chose that moment to reappear. "What the hell was that?" she asked as if she were perturbed by his sudden outburst. "Control yourself, man! Or, are you afraid of your own shadow?"

Snape hastily gulped air as he fought to keep from shaking. He sent her the darkest look he could muster at the moment, which was really quite pathetic with the way he was deliciously trembling.

"Did…did you hear…werewolf—?"

She crossed her arms and tsked in annoyance. "No, I didn't. All heard was your pathetic ninny of a scream preceded by your anxious whispering of my name and ignoring my following responses. What was I supposed to hear!" _Hide the smirk, hide the smirk…Oh, this was too easy._

He had gained sufficient control of himself by the time she finished. Glancing warily down the hall, he mumbled, "Nothing. Let's go back to bed."

Oh, that little titbit about Snape was quite amusing; she'd have to thank Hadley for that bit of information about werewolves. It was more than adequate payback for the potion incident; but alas! She would have to gloat in private. Oh well.

oOoOo

**Beware of Flying Objects!**

"Have you tried a hacksaw?"

"No. You are free to have at it if you would like to try."

Snape summoned a large blade with a serrated edge from his storage closet. Transfiguring it successfully into a saw, he approached Noira. She set her wrist down on the workbench and Snape clamped her bracelet in place with a vice.

"Hold still," he commanded.

He bent down and attacked the bracelet with the saw blade.

_SCREE-TWANG!_ The saw blade snapped off and flew straight at Noira's head.

Noira hastily ducked and covered her eyes with her free arm. "Hey! I need my eyes, thank you."

Snape snorted. _Really? "_But I _clearly_ do not need my wrist."

oOoOo

**Day Five, or Soap and a Death Wish**

It was day-effing-five and the situation was already grating on Snape's nerves. They had been playing the I-wait, you-wait game for quite some time now, and it was getting old fast.

He leaned against the wall outside the bathroom and proceeded to count the number of books on his shelves, _again._

_How long does it bloody take to get a shower?_ he wondered. He supposed with a shrug that he had started the whole debacle a few days ago, when he had let her wait for thirty minutes while he was washing off Longbottom's latest failure. She had needed to wash as well, but that was too-bloody-bad for her.

Of course, he had promptly been rewarded by having to wait while she had taken a _bath_ of all things. And that—believe it or not—had taken forever.

Snape shifted from one foot to another and pictured several ways of strangling that stupid chit. Sure, it would send him to Azkaban for life, but that was a risk he was almost willing to take. As it was, this was torture enough.

He could hear the water still running in the other room and he wondered if there would be any hot water left by the time she was through. He knew it was a stupid thing to worry about since the castle _could not_ run out of hot water, but enough was enough already.

He glanced towards the door yet again. It was taunting him, sitting about a foot open, and it would have been so easy to just slip in and see what was taking her so damn long.

No, he better not, he'd probably get singed eyebrows—not to mention anything else—for his efforts, and he knew from experience how long it took those to grow back—not that it had happened any time recently or anything. But still, he was curious. What could she possibly be doing that would take this long?

He tapped his foot in irritation.

He watched the second hand go around his clock for what seemed like the fiftieth time.

He glanced towards the door.

_Oh, sod it._

He walked to the door and stepped just inside the threshold.

_Oh, sweet Nimue, Circe, and Venus…_ If his jaw had dropped any further, it would have been dragging the floor.

The first thing he became aware of was that whatever currently inhabited his bathroom was a vision of loveliness unfit for mortal eyes. He decided the gods were either smiling down on him or laughing their arses off at his expense. _Fuck. _

The second thing he became aware of was how tight his trousers were becoming. _Fuck indeed._

He saw Noira bent forward with her back to him, washing the soap out of her long, black hair. His position afforded him the perfect opportunity to watch her unseen. _Perfect opportunity? _He wondered what the hell he was thinking and why he was not moving. **_Get out of here you idiot,_** _**before she fries you crispy!** _his mind all but screamed at him.

As it was, he was frozen in place, caught between running for the hills in shame and fear, and watching her with his tongue lolling out like a dog's.

Black would have been proud.

She was completely oblivious to his presence, and he was sure there was a special circle in hell just for him, where he could rot for all eternity.

He was transfixed in place as he watched her rinse soap off of her lean body. He saw her flip her head back and wring the water from her hair. Her arms were lifted and he could see how her breasts were raised by the motion, and he longed to reach out and touch her.

Oh! To be that water, that soap, those bubbles that ran down her magnificent body and down to her immaculate toes! He gave a whimper and fought to squelch it before she heard him.

He was certain of it. He was definitely going to hell for this, and he could hear his train ticket being stamped as he waited.

_Stupid, idiotic, voyeuristic, Peeping Tom, bastard… _Why did he just stand there like an idiot? Did he have a death wish? No, what he wished was that he could run up to her, pin her against the wall, and take her as the water ran down both of their bodies. He could almost imagine the feel of her encasing him, and all he would have to do is step forward and claim what was surely meant to be his own.

And he felt a burning desire to do so. _Oh shite. _With that sudden revelation, he realized that he needed to get out of there right now before he did something stupid and got himself killed.

Finally gaining control of his feet, he made an about-turn and retreated out the door.

_Never again…I am a stupid moron with a death wish. If she finds out what I just saw, I am as good as dead…death by Punjab lasso…Merlin, help me. _It was as much an oath as it was a prayer.

oOo

Noira rinsed the soap from her body and turned to rinse all of the soap from her back. She thought she had heard a squeak, but ignored it. As she turned, she could have sworn she felt someone watching her, but no, the door was exactly as it was when she first stepped in the shower. She shrugged as she grabbed a towel. _Oh well, must have been my imagination._

oOoOo

**Day Seven, Wave the White Flag.**

"Fire?"

"No."

"Hacksaw?"

"No."

"Acid?"

"No."

"Hammer and chisel?"

"No."

"Silver-eating moths?"

"No, and you _still _owe me a pair of earrings."

"Countercharm?"

"There is no countercharm."

"Going to a jeweller?"

"Nothing they could do."

"Gnawing off our own wrists in a valiant, last-ditch effort to escape this unspeakable torment?"

"Ha, _no._"

Snape threw down their checklist. "Fine. We surrender, Dumbledore. You win this round, but you shall never win the war."

* * *

**A/N:** This interlude has been brought to you by: "The Devil Went Down to Georgia," "404 Ways to Annoy Snape," and the numbers 2, 3, and 5! 


	13. Rumours Revealed

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

**Rumours Revealed**

And so the first week passed. Noira still hadn't been able to talk to Harry about his additional lessons, but it was near impossible to do so with Snape constantly within three metres of her person. She could sense the animosity rolling off both Snape and Harry in waves every time the two drew near one another. Her skin nearly prickled with the emotion thundering between the two. She was tempted, _so_ tempted to start the lessons before the spell binding them together ended, but decided that although she and Snape could beat each other up all they wanted, it would probably not be in their best interests to involve a student in the crossfire. And of course, Snape had never apologized for the potion 'incident,' and until he did, she would never apologize for knocking the living daylights out of him. It felt good—damn good. She was also not going to apologize for burning Snape's wrist. Besides, it wasn't her fault he got burned.

They both found it maddening not to have any privacy at all. Noira quickly learned to summon a house elf to get tea for Snape first thing in the morning, if she didn't want her head chewed off. They slept together, ate together, walked around the castle together, even supervising detentions were performed together. There was no way in hell that they would ever bathe together, so naturally baths were out of the question and both had to get used to one of them standing outside of the bathroom while the other took their time—simply out of spite, of course. Snape, being a naturally reclusive person, became harsher than usual in all of his classes, and even Noira was reaching her breaking point.

Given the nature of schools in general, and Hogwarts in particular, the rumours concerning the two of them flew about castle. Only Dumbledore knew about their binding, and only on pain of death would Noira or Snape ever admit to such an embarrassing situation. The rest of the staff had been told that they simply needed to work together, flimsy excuse that it was, but Noira and Snape considered a flimsy excuse better than the truth any day. At least whispers from the staff could be ignored, although the students were far worse. At their passing, the students would whisper incessantly behind their backs, only to stop when Snape pinned them with his malevolent gaze. They knew that the whispering about their apparent closeness would only cease if the truth was revealed. And if either of them had anything to say about it, it never would be. However, the nature of any rumour is to spread until confronted by the truth—and confronted it was.

"Severus, we should really work on that potion my father sent. Heaven knows that for the next two weeks we should have plenty of time." They were currently in his classroom.

"Lovely idea, we are, after all, joined AT THE BLOODY HIP!"

"Ooh, someone's got a temper," she purred in amusement.

"It's entirely your fault, you know," Snape retorted as he graded the second-years' essays. He smirked with wicked delight as he crossed out an entire paragraph. "_If the dunderheads would only read the book…_" he muttered.

"Oh, is it?" Noira asked in response as she did grading of her own. "My impression is that you're the one who starts most of these spats. Are you saying that the stain-causing, exploding, purple, childish prank of a potion you pulled was _my _fault?"

"Of course it was. You seem to find everything I do amusing, so I gave you a little joke." He looked thoughtfully in her direction and gave her a fake smile, "Did you not like my present?"

"That's it." Noira slammed down the scroll she was grading and threw down her quill. "What the hell is your problem with me?"

Snape stood up to face her. _My problem is that you're fucking gorgeous, unreal, and completely out of my reach. _Of course, that thought went unsaid."My problem," his voice was dark and dangerous, "Is that you come here, some young upstart from nowhere, what are you, not even twenty-three? And you are already Dumbledore's little darling, having a special subject just for you, coming up to his office for things sent specifically for you, having your own little 'secret' missions, and nobody questions a damn thing! I know you're hiding something, and I'm sure as hell going to find out what."

She ignored the warning in Snape's voice. "First of all, you have no idea how old I am, and my age is none of your damn business. And second of all, what do you think I am hiding?" She stepped closer until she was mere inches away. Smoke tendrils coiled about her.

The door to the classroom suddenly opened. "Severus, Noira, there you are. I have been looking everywhere for the two of you."

They broke the staring contest between them and Snape turned to greet the intruder to his domain. "Professor McGonagall," his voice was mockingly jovial. "What brings you down to the bowels of the castle?"

McGonagall ignored his sarcasm. "I'm actually here to talk to the two of you."

"_Really_?" he sardonically swept his arm forward to indicate that Noira should precede him to the back of the room.

They stopped in front of McGonagall to see what she needed.

"Noira, I'll actually be talking to you first." McGonagall gestured towards Snape. "Severus, could you please step outside for a moment? I'll be with you shortly."

McGonagall missed the pained look Noira gave her at this suggestion and also missed Noira furtively scooting closer to the door, but she did see Snape grudgingly step outside and reach to close the door. McGonagall turned to face Noira, not waiting to see if Snape had closed the door completely.

Outside the door, Snape leaned against the wall, right outside the door post, and glanced in through the small crack he had left open. _What does McGonagall want now?_ Some first year Slytherins stopped to watch him, wondering why their Head of House was eavesdropping through his own door. With a poisonous glare from him, they hurriedly scooted along.

"Now, Professor Rohal," McGonagall said, "as Deputy Headmistress, it is my responsibility to remind you of several rules that you must follow, especially as a member of the teaching staff. I know that you are new to this school, but there are several protocols that must be followed. The rumours that have been circulating about the castle are quite scandalous." She scowled at her last statement. "It is true that relationships between faculty members are not precisely forbidden, but if they are to occur, they must occur _discreetly_." Her tone was stern. "And discreetly does not describe the middle of the hall."

Noira's eyes widened as she realized what McGonagall was thinking.

'_Relationships must occur discreetly…' What? _Outside the door, Snape leaned in closer to hear what was going on.

Noira began sputtering. "With all due respect, Minerva, I assure you there is nothing…" She was cut off by a wave of McGonagall's hand.

"I'm surprised that the Headmaster allowed the two of you to work so closely together, especially after that disgraceful episode outside of the Trophy Room. You should have been formally reprimanded." McGonagall paused as she heard a sound from outside the Potions classroom door. "It seems we have an eavesdropper." And with a flick of her wand, she shut the door.

"No, don't...OW!" McGonagall heard the pained yelp come from both sides of the door before it slowly swung open, squeaking on its hinges.

"McGonagall! What are you thinking?" Snape growled as he staggered into the classroom.

"Oh…my head…" Noira whimpered as she felt the large knot forming on her head.

"Oh… Oh my." McGonagall at least had the decency to look abashed before she burst out into laughter. "Ha! I can't believe that _this_ is what's going on. To hear some of the students, one would think that you were running around like a pair of kneazles in heat!"

Both Noira and Snape growled at her in exasperation. "Perhaps when you are done laughing at our expense," Snape sneered, "you would have the decency to help us undo this confounded charm?"

She just kept on laughing. "This is one of Albus' tricks. Tell me, how long has this been going on?"

Noira gritted her teeth and answered, "Since last Friday."

"Oh, that is priceless! And Dumbledore told me that you were each other's assistants, and of course, none of us questioned him." Her eyes twinkled almost as much as Dumbledore's. _Stop the damn **twinkling!**_ "An entire week? Well, Severus, it seems you finally found a woman who just can't bear to part from your side."

Noira looked at her with pained disgust, while Snape mumbled incoherently under his breath.

"Well, I'll leave the two of you to your enchantment." McGonagall headed for the door. "Since nothing is going on, my job here is done."

"Wait! Help us get this damn thing off!"

"Sorry, Severus. It's not coming off until you do whatever Dumbledore wants you to do. There's nothing I can do." With that, she headed out the door.

"Merlin's beard! In five minutes the entire bloody castle will know." Snape slammed his hand onto the table and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "How much time do we have left?"

Noira sighed as she put her head down on the table. She glanced up at the clock. "Fourteen days, eleven hours, fifty-eight minutes and thirteen seconds."

"Blast!"

oOoOo

Peeves had a field day later that evening, and he wasn't the only one. Every time they stepped through a door, it would invariably slam shut as soon as one of them stepped through, leaving them bruised and sore. During classes, the students would ask both of them questions at the same time, forcing their bond to its limits as they tried to do their job. And to top it all off, there was no way they could call it an early night to slink off and lick their wounds. Teachers were all required to attend the evening meal during the school week.

True to form, Peeves did not lay off, even in the Great Hall. As Noira and Snape made their way through the giant doors, Peeves slammed them shut and took off with a squeal of wicked mischief.

"PEEVES!"

The entire student body was there to witness their humiliation. The students sat at their tables, transfixed by the surrealism of the scene. Sprawled out on the ground was their most hated professor, down for the count and knocked out cold. The students craned their necks to get a better view as the door slowly swung open, squeaking on it giant hinges.

The Gryffindor table was closest to the door, and subsequently had the best view. "Ouch," Ron winced as he caught a glimpse of the figure staggering through the door. "I bet that hurt."

Professor Rohal crawled into the Hall on her hands and knees. "That _kazis _ghost. If he wasn't already dead, I'd kill him."

She crawled over to where Snape lay sprawled out on the ground. Noira shook him by the shoulders, trying to wake him up. "Get up." She was barely conscious herself as she tried to revive him. She looked like a drunk thrown out of a bar.

"Get up." She shoved him again without luck. Noira looked around for something to help her. She mumbled something under her breath and a pitcher zoomed off the table, right out of a student's hand and straight into her own. Noira lifted the pitcher and unceremoniously dumped the pumpkin juice straight into Snape's face.

His head jerked up as he sputtered and coughed from the rude, sticky awakening. "What was that for?" he asked indignantly.

She replied calmly. "You were unconscious."

"And an _Enervate _wouldn't have worked?" his ire was beginning to rise.

Noira sat back on her ankles and crossed her arms. "If I knew how to. Anyway, I could not very well go anywhere with you sprawled out on the ground," she snapped back.

Snape suddenly realized that it was unusually quiet wherever they were at.

"Where…are we?" he asked carefully.

"The Great Hall."

"Excellent." He dropped his head back to the ground, admitting defeat.

Tittering and smirks broke out from all of the tables at their situation. There was only one thing Snape hated more than being laughed at—it was being laughed at while having a killer headache. Snape struggled to stand and tried to stagger out the doors for the safety of the dungeons.

Noira lunged for his sleeve. "Hey, where are you going?"

Snape waved his arm, trying to knock her off. "Out, and you're following."

Noira yanked him back. "No, you are not. We are not through here yet." Snape looked at her like she was crazy. "Wouldn't you like to see why there are not very many ghosts in my country?" She gestured for him to move. "Get behind me."

Snape was not convinced that she could deal successfully with Peeves. "What could you possibly do to him? There are few spells effective against ghosts and poltergeists."

Noira didn't answer him, and instead fingered the lasso at her waist and muttered in a sing-song tone under her breath. The rope glowed faintly with a blue light.

"PEEVES!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. The poltergeist zoomed back into view. The hall quieted to watch. Some of their fellow teachers rose to mediate the coming fray, but Dumbledore stilled them with a wave of his hand; everyone in the hall wanted to see what would happen.

Peeves laughed as he circled around them. "Ooh… did Snivellus not enjoy his widdle nappy nap-nap?"

Snape snarled and tried to hex the brute himself. Noira shoved him back behind her. "Your quarrel's with me now, Peeves."

"Ha, ha, ha! The lady's funny when she's fuming! Her voice is loud and booming!" He did summersaults in the air and blew raspberries in defiance.

_You think so, you little nuisance? _Peeves continued to zoom about. _One…two…three!_

With a hawk-like screech Noira spun, threw her lasso through the air and yanked the spectre down to earth. She pulled her lasso in tight with her fist and grabbed Peeves by his neck. "You dim-witted, ectoplasmic _waste_ of a poltergeist!" she snarled and angry red embers glowed in the air. Her eyes blazed with her fury. "Did you like my little spell?" she purred. "You're now corporeal, or would you prefer…" she hissed something in his ear that no one else could hear. Peeves whimpered in response.

"If you even so much as _think_ about slamming another door in our faces, I will _make_ you wish for exorcism. Do I make myself clear?" Peeves gave her a speedy nod and Noira released her grip. He sped away, only to crash into the nearest wall. He gave an enraged howl only to bounce off once more.

"Don't worry; it will wear off…eventually." Peeves groaned in horror and flew off to the nearest rafter to hide until he was free from her curse.

"Well," Noira said brightly as she coiled up her rope, "he won't be troubling us any more."

Snape had to admit it, he was impressed. "That was almost better than the Bloody Baron. That was Tirnai magic, I assume."

"But of course, my dear Professor." Snape wasn't the only one impressed. The student body (the part that had been pranking, at least) was actually quite fearful. Their whispers could be heard as the pair made their way—finally—to the head table. "Did you see what she did to Peeves?" said one Ravenclaw.

oOoOo

"Bloody hell, that was brilliant," whispered one Gryffindor to another.

"Guess the plan's off for charming the doors," said Fred and George, the resident pranksters.

"Come on," said Harry, reaching for the pumpkin juice, "don't tell me you were actually gonna do it. Snape might be worth it, but Rohal's brilliant compared to some of the other professors."

"Yeah," Ron added, "you weren't there to see her tell Malfoy off."

This got the twins interest. "What'd the git do?"

At this, Ron stammered and blushed because he didn't know how quite to put it with Ginny and Hermione sitting around him. "Well, you see…what he did was…the thing is…"

Hermione had had enough of Ron's stammering. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Ron." She turned her attention to the twins. "He was passing around a note that was rather disrespectful to Professors Snape and Rohal."

This captured George's attention. "Come on, tell us what it said." Harry began snickering; he knew exactly what she was going to say.

"Well, Professor Rohal didn't read the entire not aloud, I assume it was too lewd for her to do so. It basically implied that the Professors were having relations, and Malfoy wondered if he could get her, since Professor Snape seemed to be able to."

The twins eyes grew wide. "Nuh-uh."

Fred conspiratorially elbowed George in the side. "Hey, I'd like to have a go at that myself, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I'd— OW!"

Ginny had slapped both of them on the cheek. "Behave, you two, or I'm telling mum."

The twins looked aghast. "Ginny, we were only jesting," said George.

Fred pouted. "Don't tell mum, Gin. Come on, your our favourite little sister."

"_I'm your only sister,"_ Ginny muttered.

George turned back to Hermione. "Hermione, don't give us euphemisms, tell us exactly what the note said."

Hermione sighed. "Oh, alright then. This is what it said, and I quote: 'I wonder how Snape gets her to bed him. I'd like to have a go at her myself. I wonder if she has a thing for younger men as well…' and so on and so forth. Use your imagination."

"Younger men, indeed. It's more like younger _boy_." They convulsed with laughter and almost fell of the bench they were sitting on. "He didn't."

"He did."

"That little bastard. Bet he got what he deserved."

"Not really, Snape stopped her from making him leave the room _and_ took away all of his detentions."

"Bummer."

Harry shrugged around his mouthful of food. "At least she scared him witless."

oOoOo

After dinner, Snape and Noira eventually staggered back to her rooms; they decided the dungeon was too far away. They changed, him into his nightshirt, and her into a long nightgown, and climbed into bed. After a while, they decided it was high time they tried to hold an actual, civil, conversation.

Neither wanted to be the first to talk. They lay there in silence as the moonlight struck them from the tall window. Eventually, Noira decided to break the silence. "Tonight was interesting."

"Yes, it was."

"Who is the Bloody Baron?"

"The Slytherin ghost. He's also the only one besides the Headmaster who can control Peeves."

"Well, you can add a third person onto that list."

"Indeed."

"Um, so anyways…Goodnight, Severus."

"Goodnight…Noira."


	14. Pleasant Dreams

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

**Pleasant Dreams**

After that day's drama, Snape had collapsed on the bed and immediately fallen into deep sleep. His reward for putting up the inanities of humanity was one of the best dreams of his life.

Nestled deep in his arms was the most beautiful witch he had ever met, and she was his and his alone. Her hair spilled across his pillow, obscuring her face. She was on her side, facing away from him, and he could clearly see the gentle curve of her body in the soft moonlight that filtered through the windows.

_Beautiful._ He pulled her close and ran his hand appreciatively down her side, revelling in her contented purr when he nuzzled her neck, a purr that was only for him. He loved to hear the way she cooed in her sleep, her delightful sighs of contentment when she burrowed deeper into his embrace. _Jasmine, she smells like jasmine, and ginger, and everything exotic. _He kissed the waves of her hair in the moonlight, _Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!_

Her body was warm, and he longed to bury himself deep inside of her. He rubbed her stomach possessively through the silk of her nightgown. He felt the muscles tense as he held her close, savouring her warmth. _Gods, she's gorgeous, and she's mine._ He nibbled lightly on her neck and he could taste the salty sweetness of her skin. Nothing excited him more than the knowledge that she belonged to him alone, and he would never let this dream-witch go.

As he touched her, he could hear her breath hitch and shudder, though she had yet to awaken from her slumber. He finally cupped her breasts gently, and he chuckled when she tried to press herself more firmly into his touch. She pushed herself against him, and writhed against his erection. With a hiss, he ground back and encouraged her motion.

He couldn't see her face. "Who are you, my lady of the night?" His voice was silky as he kissed her shoulder. All she could do was whimper in response, her voice like music. "My succubus, my dream…" He ran his fingers through her hair, content in knowing she was his and his alone. No one would take her from him.

oOoOo

Noira was in heaven. Deep in the arms of Morpheus, she dreamt of her lover.

Oh, the feel of his hand as it caressed her side, her hip; he gave her goose bumps with his touch alone. She purred with pleasure when his lips found her neck. The feel of his warm lips against the cool flesh of her neck brought her ecstasy when he licked and nibbled the sensitive spot he found there. _Touch me, give me more! _she demanded through the haze of sleep.

He said not a word, but drew her closer, almost as if reading her mind. She could smell him, almost taste him, as he held her close, coaxing her to passion with the meticulous way he kneaded and caressed every inch of her body through the silk. She loved the clean scent of him, the feel of his wiry muscles, and the roughness of his hands against the silk of her nightgown as he teased her, rubbing just under her breasts, and avoiding what she wanted him to touch the most.

She reached out and pulled him closer against her body. She moved her hips against his body and the hardness she found there as his hands drove her wild. She could hear him whisper as he nipped the flesh at her collarbone, "My lady… my succubus…my dream." She could feel him caress her hair and press her down against the bed, until she was lying on the flat of her back. She could feel his erection as he rubbed it against her thigh through her nightgown. It was a delicious counterpoint to the weight of him pinning her down, and she couldn't wait for more. Her legs parted on their own accord as her subconscious sought to join their bodies as one. He ground into her with his hips and she arched her back to rub against him. He lowered the straps of her gown, kissing every inch of iridescent skin as it appeared, his eyes shut at the onslaught of sweetness.

She was heady from the feelings coursing through her, and still she wanted more. "Kiss me," she demanded, "Kiss me, my incubus…" She pulled his head down to hers and captured his mouth forcefully with her own.

_Oh, _the taste, the feeling, and the power that she felt as she took those lips for her own. He nibbled on her lips in return, wanting to taste every inch of her.

She ran her fingers through his hair. It felt long, straight, and..._greasy?_

Her eyes opened with a snap at the exact same time his did.

"_Doshe sem feris!"_

"_What the fuck?"_

They released each other with a screech before tumbling off from opposites sides of the bed. They hit the ground with a thud and realized they were way too far apart.

"Mother…"

Their bodies sped along the cold floor, colliding together right under the middle of the bed.

Snape jerked up and tried to get away—he promptly rammed his head into the bed frame.

"Oww…_Why won't it stop?"_ he moaned as they slowly crawled their way out from under the bed. After they each made their way out, they silently knelt next to one another on the floor.

They glared at each other before rising to their feet in anger.

"How dare you!"

"How dare _you?_"

"I would never…"

"Well you did, didn't you?"

"You did as well!"

"No, I…hell."

They stared at one another before they realized the dishevelled state they each were in. Noira angrily fixed the straps on her gown, and grabbed the top comforter, wrapping it around her like a dressing gown. Snape grabbed a pillow and used it to camouflage the obvious effects of that unwanted 'dream.'

They stared at each other in silence before Snape spoke. "That…"

"Never happened."

"We…

"Remember nothing."

"Good."

"Great."

Neither had any idea how they had managed to wrap themselves around the other during the night. Hell, they each slept as far away from the other as they possibly could, even to the point of dangling arms and legs off of the bed. They even had set up a pillow divider between them so there would be no chance of them touching.

Snape sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the pillow in his lap. Nightshirts did not cover everything. He wondered about what had just happened, and cursed fate. _Gods, I hate her._ It had been an unwanted reminder of what his stupidity had led him to see a few nights ago. As hard as he tried, his body refused to forget the feel of her under him, the suppleness of her form… "ENOUGH!" He slammed his fist against the nightstand and Noira jumped from her seat.

"What was that for?" Noira asked vehemently at his outburst. "It's…" As he turned to answer her, he was mesmerized by a single scarlet plume drifting lazily to the ground.

Noira looked at him in shock. _Please don't ask me. Please don't ask me. Please don't ask me._

"Where did that feather come from?"

_He asked me._ Her voice was barely a whisper as it made its way from her lips. "Please, I can't… don't…"

Snape actually felt a twinge of concern at her inordinate lack of composure. His voice lacked its usual amount of venom as he asked, "Is this what you couldn't tell me?"

She could only look down at the feather when she answered. "Yes."

"I will not ask you about it again."

"Thank you," she whispered.

Snape was still curious, but waited a few moments before asking. "Why can't you tell anyone?"

Noira's eyes snapped up to meet his. "_I thought you said you wouldn't ask."_ Her voice was dark and Snape saw the beginnings of a snarl forming on her lips. _No, don't look at her hips—lips, I meant lips._

"You're right." He finally sighed. He glanced over at the clock against her wall. "It's only one in the morning, we should go back to sleep."

"Or… we could go work on the potion?" Her voice was slightly hopeful, as if she really didn't want to go back to bed; she was still flushed from the dream.

"Alright." They both rose and changed with a snap; Snape with a wave of his wand and Noira with a flick of her wrist.

As they left her chambers, they caught site of a spectre zooming away like the hound of Hades was after him. They gave each other one look and came to an agreement.

"_Peeves."_

* * *

_**Reference to "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes.**_


	15. It's you again

Disclaimer: See Prologue

* * *

**It's you again**

Noira awoke to the feeling of something warm and strong cradling her neck and shoulders and resting on her waist. Happiness could have been defined as staying there and never having to move. However, sleep no longer sang its siren song, so she knew it was time to get up. She yawned, gave a slow, catlike stretch, and lazily opened her eyes.

"_Mmh?" _She opened her eyes and flinched when she realized she was lying across a sleeping Snape's lap on a couch in his private lab, and using him as a pillow. _How did I get here? Since when was there a couch?_

The events of last night came rushing back to her. She remembered walking to the lab, both of them working to the point of exhaustion, and sitting on the transfigured couch to rest their eyes for a minute. That still didn't explain how she ended up in Snape's lap, not that she minded. _Yes, I do mind! _She wondered where the first thought came from, and then she remembered how the night had started. She blushed as she remembered how close they had come to having sex right then; she probably would have let him. _Wait a minute…sex? Heavens, no! No! No! Emphatically No!_ _Not with **that**_ _bastard!_ She beat her forehead with her fist trying to knock the images away.

Noira's thoughts were interrupted by the feel of her pillow shifting beneath her. With a gasp, she realized that she had yet to move off of Snape's lap, and blushed again.

Snape opened his eyes, blinked, and looked down at the blushing figure in confusion before rubbing his eyes and looking at her once more. "Bloody hell, it's you again."

"And who else would it be?"

He looked at her derisively from down his nose. "Well, after a week of the exact same thing, the view gets a little old," he sneered, although he considered this particular view not so bad. In fact, it was downright decent since it was down the front of her robes—not that he'd tell her that.

"You were not complaining a minute ago."

Snape harrumphed noncommittally. He stretched and almost knocked her off of him. _It's too early in the morning…_Not one to pass by a chance to comment, he asked her, "_Why _are you still in my lap?"

Embarrassed, Noira sat up with a snap and glared at him. "Maybe it is because your arm was pinning me down."

He looked at her, mouth agape. "It was not!"

"Oh, then it was just around me for some other totally unknown, yet equally valid reason?"

He growled in response and stood up from the couch. He took a few steps and stopped when he realized she was not following. "Since you didn't summon my tea this morning, I'll have to go and get it myself." She glared at him and didn't move. "Well, come on."

She was busy contemplating ways to poison his cup right under his nose, and didn't hear a thing. "Well?" he snapped.

"Fine." Noira rolled her eyes got up. They completed their morning ablutions and made their way to the Great Hall.

oOoOo

Once they sat down to breakfast, the whispering had started up once again. Noira rubbed her temples in irritation. The combination of yesterday's drama, last night's _interesting_ episode, and the fact that they had spent half the night awake, had left the pair tired and irritable.

As Snape reached across to grab the teapot, Noira had muttered in his ear, "Can you just cast a silencing charm on the entire school? At least on just the students, perhaps?"

Snape poured both her and himself a cup of tea before answering. "I have been trying to do that for years; Dumbledore never lets me."

"Perhaps it would not hurt to ask one more time… or better yet, just do it."

The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. "I may just do so if they keep up that infernal twittering."

Noira gave him a lopsided grin before yawning and looking appraisingly back out over the sea of students. "Birds twitter. They, however, are just plain gossips."

An owl headed their way and they stopped to watch. The owl barely missed landing in her eggs when it skidded to a halt. "What is this?" she asked as she took a pair of letters from the bird's grasp. Noira stroke the owl's back before giving it a piece of bacon and sending it on its way.

Snape scoffed as he took the letters, "A school owl? My, someone must be getting lazy. They even sent two letters with one bird."

Noira yawned again. "Just open them already," she said. The slight amusement that flitted across Snape's face vanished as he looked at the letters with disgust. "It seems," he sneered, "that our inspections are today."

"They cannot wait until this stupid bond is broken?"

"I assume not." He looked down the staff table. "Oh look," his said with a voice that was flat. "Here comes the Inquisitor herself."

Umbridge trotted over to them as if communicating with them was the most distasteful in the world. "_Hem-hem. _It is safe to assume you have both received your notices then?" the older witch asked. _Why the hell did you owl them if you were going to ask? And why do you have to ask if you can **see** them in our hands, you filthy excuse for a witch?_

"Of course, Dolores," Noira answered with a fake smile plastered on her face. "Any spot in particular that you would have me set up with a stool for you?" she asked sweetly.

Umbridge looked suspiciously at something on the ground behind their chairs. "Did you take the Headmaster's feather to him?"

Noira didn't have any idea of what the toad was referring to. Before she could ask for clarification, she remembered. There was the feather she had dropped on the way from the staff meeting.

'_It seems Fawkes is moulting, I shall have to go take this to Dumbledore,' she had said._

"Oh, yes, yes I did," she lied. "Why?"

"It seems that _Fawkes_ has dropped another one." And with that she walked off.

Noira sat in shock as her mind processed the implications of that last statement. _It seems that Fawkes has dropped another one. _She feared that somehow Umbridge must have figured it out. But when? How? She didn't recall making any mistakes; the feathers were unavoidable. The only way she could take care of that would be to…

She was drawn out of her deliberations by the sensation of someone pinching her arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Finally," Snape sighed with mocking exasperation. "It's not considered polite to zone out in the middle of a conversation."

"It is also not polite to pinch another's arm," she snapped back as she rubbed the sore flesh. "And since when do we have conversations?"

"You know…," he feigned a thoughtful look. "I don't know."

"We do not want too many 'conversations' happening, the devil might take up ice-skating."

"Indeed." He looked amused, well, as amused as Snape could look. "So, since when have you been on a first name basis with Umbridge?"

She cocked an eyebrow as she answered, "Do you really want to know?"

He nodded.

"Since I was cornered in my office. She is under the false impression that I agree with her."

"Oh really?" he smirked. "How did this happen?"

"I mistakenly assumed that if I just agreed with her, she would go away. I certainly do not need the Ministry snooping about me, since I technically do not exist and all."

"That's the trouble with politicians; they never know when to go away."

oOoOo

They were on their way down to the dungeons when they caught sight of a scuffle right outside the classroom door.

"Not…funny…don't…Mungo's…show…him…" they heard from the struggling Gryffindors while the Slytherins snickered at the professors' silent approach. Snape was up behind them in an instant. "Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" he sneered. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Get inside, all of you." His tone brooked no room for discussion.

"But Malfoy…" Potter sputtered.

"Now."

After the students had taken their seats, they had begun whispering. Noira followed him in, and he shut the door with the habitual bang. The students immediately fell silent. She settled in her customary distance from Snape, and he began his class.

"You will notice," he said in his dark, sneering voice, "that we have _another_ visitor with us today." He gestured towards the witch sitting in the back, clutching a clipboard. "You will continue on your Strengthening Solutions, which should have matured since Monday—if you managed to get them right in the first place. Instructions are on the board." He flicked his wand towards the green slate, "Begin."

For the first thirty minutes of class, Noira followed a circling Snape around the classroom as he inspected cauldrons, checked potions, and completely ignored the scratching noises coming from the corner of the room. Noira was not having such luck with ignoring the quill. Her teeth would grit every time the quill slipped on the paper at the wrong angle, or when Umbridge would flip a page on her clipboard. _Doshe, _she thought,_ that quill's been scratching for only twenty minutes. How in the hell am I going to survive another round of this cacophonous torture?_

Umbridge eventually rose and approached Snape from behind, "Your class seems very advanced for their level." He ignored her and continued his rounds. "Although," she continued, "the Ministry would prefer if Strengthening Solution was removed from the syllabus."

Snape stiffened and slowly turned with a sneer firmly planted on his face. Before he could speak, Umbridge went on, completely ignorant of the dangerous look he sent her way. "Professor Rohal, could you _excuse_ us. I need to talk with Professor Snape privately."

Noira began to seethe. "Of course, Professor Umbridge. Excuse me whilst I plug my ears and turn away."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot you _can't _leave. How convenient," she leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "for your _little_ trysts."

_That little toad…_Noira's eyes widened in shock and she glared at Umbridge with indignation.

Noira was surprised when Snape swooped in to save her. He towered over the two of them as he spoke with a dark voice, "Excuse me, Professors, but this is still my class and I would like to get on with it." Umbridge had no choice but to let Noira go and continue on with the evaluation.

"Thank you," Noira whispered to Snape once class had ended, and they were out of Umbridge's hearing range. He smirked in her direction, "I don't know what you're talking about," and kept heading towards the Great Hall for lunch.

After lunch, they headed towards the music classroom. Noira stopped in her tracks, almost causing Snape to barrel into her. "What, woman?" he growled at her.

Noira had a realization. "Why," she asked, "would the Ministry not want the students to be able to brew Strengthening Solution?"

Snape drawled his answer, "Perhaps it's because it would strengthen…" _Shite!_ He came to the same conclusion she had. He pulled her into the nearest empty corridor. "The psalteries," he demanded, "What do they do?"

He had her pinned against the wall and she answered timidly as he breathed down her neck. _Too close, way too close. _"They strengthen the magic of its creator, allowing them a new level of ….Ow!" Snape let her go the moment she cried out. He hadn't realized he was holding her so tightly.

When someone passed by their corridor, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into a secret passage. "Help me," Noira pleaded. "She must not find out what the psalteries can do. The Ministry would destroy them and the students would never have a second chance. It was Dumbledore who wanted them taught; he wanted them to be able to…" He hushed her with one long finger pressed lightly against her lips. He let his finger tug lightly on the fullness of her bottom lip, amazed that she had not pulled away. _Oh, her lips were soft… Stop it, damn it. Focus. _He could see the worry in her deep golden eyes; but it wasn't worry for herself, it was worry for the _students._

"Shhh… hush. I don't believe any Slytherins would tell her—we crave power and the students have nothing to gain by telling." He removed his finger and resisted the urge to run it down her cheek. "And as much as I loath to admit it, the Gryffindors won't tell, not with malicious intent anyways."

Her voice was sad as she contemplated the outcome, "I can only hope so." Noira glanced down the darkened hallway. "Come, I want to make it to my classroom before she does. I don't trust that toad not to snoop through my things."

Somehow, through the clever use of secret corridors, Noira and Snape managed to make it to classroom eight before Umbridge did. She had just enough time to gather her papers and sit down before Umbridge came in and worked her way to the back of the room. Noira leaned over to whisper in Snape's ear, "And now: the idiot parade. Grab a butterbeer; it is going to be a long show."

The rest of the class had filed in and taken their seats. "Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Professor Rohal," the class said in unison.

"Today we will be continuing to work on your psalteries. And yes, I know that we have yet to even begin carving, but the varnishes you will need must be prepared well in advance, as they must age properly before they are used. And you are all in luck. Professor Snape has graciously agreed to allow you a class period in the Potions Lab to concoct your own varnish for your psalteries." Part of the class groaned at this revelation.

"Potions twice in one day?" Ron grimaced as he whispered to Harry. "I might as well start digging my own grave."

Any warm feelings he might have been developing for her immediately dissipated. _I WHAT? I did no such thing. That bitch is putting words in my mouth, I would never agree to such nonsense even if…_

"Is that not so, Professor Snape?" Noira continued.

"Yes indeed, Professor Rohal." _Damn it! Why the hell did I just agree? That woman is going to drive me insane. **You like her,**_ another voice inside his head replied. _No, I don't. **Yes, you do. **No, I…** Yes, you…** SHUT UP!_ The voice in his head finally got the picture and left.

"So class, the plan for next Thursday is to meet in here and then travel down to the dungeons. Does everyone understand?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good." Noira faced the board and waved her closed fists in front of herself before opening them with a flourish. Instructions and a formula appeared on the slate. "Here are your instructions for next week. I need you all to take this down and think about what personal effects you would like to include in your varnish. As you leave today, there will be an additional reading for you to work on." She turned to face the class. "Since you all are still working on design, you may talk quietly amongst yourselves—just keep the comments _somewhat_ music related, shall we?

Noira walked around her classroom in an exact reversal of that morning's conditions. This time, it was Snape who became the shadow and Noira the leader. As she neared the back of the room, Umbridge stood up to stop her.

"What is the varnish for?" she asked as she scribbled notes furiously.

"It makes the instrument more responsive to its maker," Noira responded with a bored drawl to her voice.

Umbridge wasn't satisfied with her answer. "_Hem-hem. _And how, if I may ask?"

Noira spared a glance to her class to ensure they were all working and not listening to her conversation instead. She decided to be short and to the point. "It functions much in the same way that a custom-tailored robe is more comfortable than one straight off the shelf."

Snape had walked around to behind the Golden Trio. He knew that they had to be up to something, they were never that quiet, even in the library.

"_­Hem-hem._ Well, how long have you been teaching?"

Noira turned to watch the short witch carefully. "Here or elsewhere?"

"Both, if you please."

"As you well know, this is my first year at Hogwarts, but I have taught for a total of thirteen years.

oOoOo

_THIRTEEN years? What, was she **ten** when she started teaching?_ Apparently Snape wasn't the only one to be surprised. He watched both Potter and Weasley start at the same time he did. _I knew they were up to something. _He snapped his fingers in their faces. "Get to work." And they hurriedly began drawing once more. Well, Ron did, Harry didn't. Harry looked suspiciously at him; Snape merely glared back with his best I-am-up-to-nothing-Potter-you-brat-get-back-to-work-or-I'll-hex-you look until Harry bent back to his drawing.

Snape watched Noira's interrogation by Umbridge (there was no other way to describe it), and he feared that Noira was dangerously close to revealing something dreadfully important. He watched them with questioning eyes, curious as to how this would unfold.

oOoOo

Umbridge sneered incredulously as she looked at Noira from over her clipboard. "That's impossible. You would have been teaching since you were ten years old

"Yes, if I were twenty-three." Noira rolled her eyes.

Umbridge furiously scribbled more notes. "How old are you then?" she demanded.

"Thirty-four."

"That cannot possibly be so, _unless_ you're using glamour," Umbridge accused her.

Noira was beginning to get unsettled by the constant badgering. "I can assure you, that is not so."

"Then how?" Umbridge demanded.

She grew quiet. "I would rather not say."

"_Please,_ enlighten us. We need this information to create accurate pictures of our teachers' backgrounds." It was a command, not a request.

Noira grew teary-eyed and could only whisper for fear of sobbing. "I would rather not say."

Umbridge's patience snapped with the teary-eyed Tirnai. "Tell me."

"If you must know…" Noira had a look of complete sorrow on her face; her eyes glowed with a mournful yellow light, flickering like candles.

"When I was a little girl, I do not remember how old I was…but, my family was attacked by a dark wizard. He came out of nowhere, there was nowhere to hide." Noira conjured a handkerchief and used it to dry her eyes. "He…he tried to curse me with _Maturesco Incitare_; the aging curse. It causes you to age at an increasing rate until you die minutes later of old age. My mother, she threw herself in front of me, she tried to save me; the curse hit her instead, I watched her age and die right before my eyes." She shook her head as tears continued to fall. "It is a most cruel fate. It sucks the life from one and bestows it on another, forcing them to live alone. It will be my fate to watch all those around me age and die before I do so myself." She stifled a sob. "I hope you are satisfied," she hissed.

Umbridge looked confused at her tale. The bell rang and she stood hastily. She addressed the two other professors still in the room, "You will have the results on Monday." She retreated hastily from Snape's dangerous glare.

Snape had never heard of the curse Noira mentioned, after all, he doesn't know **everything**, but he wouldn't put it past the Dark Lord, or his minions, to use it. Once the class had left, he followed her into her office and shut the door behind them. Noira was facing away from him and wiping her eyes. Snape was the first to speak. "I see now why you didn't want to talk about your age. You were right; it was none of my business." That was the closest he would ever come to apologizing for his actions.

The sound of stifled sobs quickly became almost hysterical laughter. Noira turned and collapsed into her chair, weaving a hasty silencing charm on her way down. Snape was incensed by her flippant attitude. He tried to be understanding, he tried to empathize, but _nooo…_ she had to laugh in his face. How dare she! "What the hell is it!"

She could barely talk through her laughter. "Oh…she thought…the look…you!"

He growled and leaned over her desk until they were eye to eye. Then, it all clicked. "You made up that sob story, didn't you?" She could only nod in reply. "That curse doesn't even exist." He paused, "Then how old are you?"

"Thirty-four."

He slammed his hand down on her desk, and then his demeanour changed. His voice became dark and silky, and accusatory. "You just said you made that story up. So what is it? What is the truth?"

Noira was amused by his anger and his attempts to coerce the truth from her. She leaned forward and held his gaze. His heated glare was matched by her cool golden one.

Snape stared into her eyes, prodded her defences with Legilimency, and got nowhere…_that little chit is teasing me…_ He then remembered the blaringly obvious. _Idiot._ "You Tirnai don't age as quickly. Your country, the ancient Irish called it Tir na nOg." Snape answered, "Land of the Ever-Young."

"Precisely."She leaned back in satisfaction.

"I remember that conversation now. The Tha'abas, your _father,_ did mention it ." Snape circled her desk. _I might have remembered it sooner if it wasn't for those bloody glowing eyes. _He sat down in the chair next to her. "Then, how old is he?"

"Three hundred."

That actually surprised him. "He's twice as old as Dumbledore! But he looks like my age. That's astonishing."

"Yes, and my father is still young."

"Really? Then that would make you…?"

Noira smiled. "Just a babe. My people can live to be around seven hundred or so, give or take a decade."

_Just a rather fetching babe. _He flicked that errant thought from his mind. "Hmm, then I guess the textbooks are wrong; the fey are not immortal," Snape said to himself.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." He had some thinking to do.


	16. Sing of a Sidhe

Disclaimer: See Prologue

A/N: In case you're wondering where all the other chapters went, I took them away for rehab. I apologize for any inconvenience, and humbly seek your indulgence concerning this matter.

KP

P.S. Val, you rock! Awsome beta work.

* * *

**Sing of a Sidhe**

Snape sat in his chair and contemplated the woman next to him. He vaguely remembered the stories about Tir na nOg, also known as Avalon, Fincayra – whatever the hell one wanted to call it – and things were slowly coming together. He blamed his current shortage of knowledge on old Binns; he had been dull as a stone even when Snape had been a student. There were, however, some things he definitely remembered. He recalled that the only way into the fey world was if one was personally invited and that the fey lived an exceptionally long time; hell, they were considered nearly immortal—well, now he knew better. They were not immortal, simply long-lived. _No, _he thought, _she's not just an ordinary fey…_ There was something more about her, something he couldn't quite place. Her magic, it was elemental magic--that much he knew, but how she wielded it was another matter entirely.

He narrowed his eyes as he looked her over. _She was a Sidhe._ He was sure of it. It all added up. Her father had even said that the Tirnai had been separated from wizards for almost a thousand years, and the last verifiable record of the Sidhe, _and_ Tir na nOg, was from the same period. That combined with her grace, the music, her magic, the glamour, even her feathers that she so desperately sought to hide. Why did she hide the feathers? He didn't understand what the big secret was behind them. _The book…_He had to find that book, but how would he do research without her finding out? His eyes gleamed in triumph as he looked her over. He knew her secret!

oOoOo

Noira watched Snape as he sat next to her. She was surprised at how well he had taken that revelation about her age, he hadn't argued with her about keeping secrets—or not yet, anyway. She knew that he was someone adverse to change, and that had to change his entire outlook on her; hell, she didn't like change herself. What she really didn't understand was that triumphant gleam in his eye; it was starting to unnerve her. He sat there for long a while simply looking her over and she had no idea what he wanted, or worse, what he thought he knew.

His eyes bored into hers as if they could coax out her secrets by their sheer depth alone. Noira felt herself beginning to fidget under his gaze. She cleared her throat to get his attention and draw him out of whatever reverie that currently held his interest. "If you don't have anything urgent to get done, I need to go by the library. As extensive as your book collection is, I didn't see _The Boke of Secretes of Albartus Magnus," _

He scoffed at her choice of reading material. "What do you need that for? That man was clearly mad; he referred to plants that never even existed." _Yes! _It was almost too convenient.

"At least plants that are recognized in your world." He arched an eyebrow at this. "Magnus was an exiled Tirnai."

"Oh, really?" This was news to him, as if he cared.

"He associated too closely with umani," she answered. "While our laws do not object to mingling, he was…overly fond of it, to the point of sharing not just knowledge, but our secrets."

He thought for a moment before standing up. "I have no objection to a slight detour," he paused to look at her, "as long as it is a short one. I do have other plans for this afternoon." He didn't want to seem too eager to go along with her plans; she might suspect he was up to something, especially with that look she was giving him. _Especially since the Book of Fae was located near the Herbology shelf in the Restricted Section._

oOoOo

They had returned from the library with about an hour to spare before dinner, so they sat down and began to read their respective books. It was a close call getting that book out under Noira's nose, especially with Pince giving him a sideways glance and a tsk as to why _he_, a Potions Master, would require a text on fairy folk. With a meticulously placed dark look, he had them out of the library in an instant.

Snape glanced at the cover of the book he was now holding. It was of green leather discoloured by age, and the pages were dark with years of neglect. As he slowly opened the cover, hoping it wouldn't fall apart as he did so, he shot a stealthy look in her direction. _Good._ She was completely engrossed in her own reading and the only movement from her direction was a turning of a page. He felt it was safe to begin his own research and began to flip through the pages.

"_The pyureste of the Fae be the Sidhe. Slendyr cretures they are, elegant and grayceful, and with a mischievous fondeness of music and dance. Their hair and skin may vary its true, but ye can always tell one bye the eyes, often strangely coloured and spekyled." _

He looked up from his reading. _Music, yes; slender, oh yes…Her eyes…_they were golden like the purest honey, with marigold and orange flecked throughout their surface…_Sigh…Wait, snap out of it!_ He placed another check on the mental parchment in his mind.

He looked down and read once more. _"Downe through the ages the Sidhe have bin in contact with mortales gyving protection, heeling and evin teeching somme of their skills to mortales, thowe they haffe only appeered in tymes of graetest neede._" Snape certainly considered the destruction of the Dark Lord a matter of greatest need.

_"Follenne angeles who were not goode enough to be saved, nor badde enough to be lost,"_ Interesting, he thought.

He heard a smooth voice from behind him, "I found something interesting, Severus."

_SHITE!_ He quickly moved some papers to cover the book and covered his shock by shuffling them around. "Really?" he intoned nonchalantly.

She was bemused by his startled reaction. Shrugging it off, she handed him the tome and pointed to a passage. "We have been going about this problem the wrong way. Perhaps, the answer is simpler than we think. There might be a plant that grows here, one closely related to the Korynth root for the Saving Ice Potion. Besides, we do not have any of the root left, and we need a substitute if we are to keep working."

He reached for the proffered text and froze when she placed her hand on his shoulder. His subconscious railed against his inaction; it just wanted him to turn around, grab her, and snog her senseless like some hormonal teenager. _Down! _He returned his attention to her book. "That is an interesting proposal, it may have some merit," he grudgingly allowed.

Her breath hitched with the innocuous touch of her hand on his shoulder. Even though there were layers and layers separating their flesh, she could still feel a jolt run through her system. Disturbed, she shook it off and found the voice to answer. "Excellent," she said, "I'll take, oh…" she paused at the look he threw back at her, "Excuse me—_we _will take our findings to the Headmaster."

oOoOo

On the way back from dinner, Snape saw a blue glowing light coming from under the door to Noira's office. He grabbed her by the arm as they walked by, pulled out his wand, and pointed to the door. His voice was a whisper, "Do you have a Pensieve?"

_What's a Pensieve? _"No, why?"

"Then your Tirnai wards must not be a strong as you think. _Someone_ is in your office."

Noira tried to protest, "That is impossible, my wards…" She was interrupted by Snape checking for signs of intruders with his wand, there were none. "…are still up." _Take that. _She moved her arms as if untangling threads on a loom. The wards fell and she opened the door.

Sitting on a pedestal he had never noticed before was a shallow glass dish. The glass itself seemed to swirl as if fog was trapped inside of it. Blue light washed over the room and dappled its surfaces like the ocean surface from below. "What is it?" Snape asked.

Noira walked to the bowl and chanted over its surface, and the mist swirled in response to her hovering hands. _"Show me the secrets of your swirling mists. Give me the message that lies within."_ The swirling increased until the fog was condensed into a dark knot. With a flash, the surface became as smooth and reflective as a mirror and a figure began to arise. _It's a scrying glass,_ he thought.

Snape stepped back as far as he could when a voice came through the mists. _"Noira! Noira, there you are, my daughter."_

"Father," she answered.

"_Where have you been? I have been waiting for you for hours." _Yonati said with mock irritation.

Noira blushed and ducked her head, "I forgot you were calling today. We were at dinner and I was busy trying to avoid a certain toad." Her voice dripped with scorn at the mention of Umbridge.

"_We?"_ the head of the figure in the glass bobbed around as if he was looking for something. He stopped when he spied the black robed figure trying to hide in the shadows. _"Oh, that's right." _His voice lost its trace of humour_. "I forgot about you and your shadow."_

_Forgot?_ Her mind quickly processed this now bit of information. "Forgot? As in you knew?" she snapped. Noira glanced down at the silver bracelet around her wrist. "That's why the design seemed familiar. It's _Tirnai_ magic!" Yonati tried in vain to stifle his laughter. Noira threw him a look that would send even the bravest man running for his life.

He smiled at her in a placatory manner. _"Daughter, I only did it because Dumbledore asked me to. Although I didn't know he would be binding you to…him."_

"Well _that's_ good to know." Snape finally spoke up from the back of the room. Yonati narrowed his eyes as Snape moved up to the edge of the scrying glass.

Yonati nodded in his direction. _"Professor Snape,"_ he greeted him stiffly.

"Tha'abas." Snape bowed to the image in the scrying glass; just because he found the man irritating as all hell didn't mean he couldn't show some respect—after all, he was a Slytherin, appearance was everything.

Now that the formalities had been concluded, Snape turned vindictive once more. "What do you want, your Majesty?" he sneered at Yonati.

Yonati's lips quirked in amusement. "_Straight to business, are we?"_ he turned to face Noira. _"A Davoskis will meet you in Diagon Alley tomorrow morning."_ He raised his hand to cut off any complaints._ "Find some excuse to be there, perhaps to restock supplies, or some robes. It matters not why you are there as long as you are there. Now, do not look for him, he will come to you. Beware of being followed…"_ He glanced around and his lip curled into a snarl. _"The glasses are being watched."_ With a final curt nod, he disappeared and the mists swirled into darkness.

Snape was the first to speak once the light had dissipated. "I get the distinct feeling that your father doesn't like me." That garnered no response, so he tried again. "So, what is this _Davoskis_?"

"Shadow," she answered him dismissively, still concerned with the rest of the message. Noira paced through her office before she stopped and turned to face him. "Do you think the Headmaster will let us leave tomorrow?"

He leaned against her desk. "Knowing the meddling old man, he probably already knows, and besides tomorrow is the weekend with no dunderheads to darken my classroom. So, what escapade will you drag me along to: robes at Malkin's or supplies at Slug's and Jigger's?"

Noira tapped her chin as if carefully weighing out each choice. As much as Snape tried to hide it, she had seen the way he watched her. She decided to milk this for all it was worth. "You know…" she started, "It has been cooler than I expected and it's only October, perhaps I should use robes as all of you do. At home, it never gets cold, so I don't own anything for this weather." She rubbed her arms lightly for effect and looked thoughtfully at Snape through her lashes. "Perhaps you can assist me in picking some out?"

Snape's jaw dropped and he stood in stunned silence. _He's rather endearing when he's at a loss for words._ Noira sauntered over in his direction and closed his mouth with her fingers under his chin. Despite herself, she trailed her fingers along his cheek as she continued past him. "Come on, I'm tired. Let's go to bed."

When Noira walked out the door to her office and reset the wards, she realized how the phrase she innocently uttered had come out as a double entendre…okay…so maybe it hadn't been uttered _that _innocently. _**You meant it that way**,_ her subconscious railed. _No, I didn't. **Yes you did, admit it.** No. Now stop it._

oOoOo

At her touch, Snape would have melted into a puddle if he were one to do so. Instead, he mentally berated himself and followed her out the door. _I am so pitiful._ He felt like an idiot. He had already succumbed to her feminine charms and all she had done was go about her day. _Stupid…stupid…stupid._ He cursed their bond; it was torture to be this close to her at all times. He doubted that she felt anything except for contempt for him; after all, that's what he felt for himself. She was a princess: beautiful, powerful, and anything a man could want. And he, well he was the 'greasy git'; what could he possibly have to offer?


	17. High Powered Explosives Part 1

**A/N:**Yay for my betas, Val and Rhiannon!

**High Powered Explosives – Part, the First**

They left early the next morning with Snape trudging unwillingly behind Noira as they left Hogwarts.

Snape wasn't happy to be dragged off on what he was sure was going to turn out to be one large fiasco. The magical handcuffs prevented him from doing as he chose, however. He was tired of following and being followed, tired of having his privacy torn apart, and tired of attending every bleeding Music class in addition to his own Potions load. But most of all, he was tired of seeing her gods-be-damned face every waking moment and not being able to do a damn thing about it; tired of being teased by her perfume every minute of the day; tired of remembering how her body looked in the moonlight; tired of hearing her hum and sing, even as it intoxicated him and brought him peace in the form of a phoenix song.

He had to find a way to get her off of his mind.

"_Sod this damn bond," _he muttered as they walked across the grounds. It was cold outside, as it was still early morning and the fog had not yet burned off. Snape scowled as they made their way across the dew-laden grounds; shopping was not a task he looked forward to. He hated shopping with a passion. In fact, he usually owl-ordered. The only time he went himself was if he needed to replenish his ingredients stores, which had to be done in person, and then only to specific shops. Somehow, he had the feeling that today was not going to be that way.

Noira, on the other hand, decided that since she had to travel to London, she might as well mix business with pleasure and enjoy herself. Since she didn't know the time or place she was to be met, a day of shopping created a nice schedule indeed. She reasoned that shopping would also allow her to cover most of the Alley at one point or another throughout the day. It was a good thing her father had arranged for her to have some wizard money on hand; she doubted they would take anything else.

Eventually, they reached the Apparition point at the edge of the Hogwarts grounds. Snape was anxious to get going because the sooner they got there, the sooner the Davoskis (whatever that was) would find them, and the sooner he could return to the safe haven of his dungeons.

"Ready to go?" he asked Noira who was struggling to keep her robes off the muddy ground. She had dressed as a witch today so as to not be so conspicuous in the wizarding alley. He hated to admit that she'd chosen a flattering outfit.

"Any time you are," she answered. "How do you propose we travel, since I cannot fly by broom?"

Snape looked at her like she was stupid. "We'll Apparate, of course. Unless you'd rather walk the distance," he sneered at her.

"I assume that Apparition would be some sort of instantaneous travel?" she asked.

_What else would it be?_ "Yes," he answered tersely. His nerves were beginning to wear thin and they hadn't even left the grounds yet.

"Can't do it."

"What?"

"I can't Apparate."

Snape couldn't believe his luck. He was stuck to a witch that couldn't Apparate. _No, not a witch,_ he corrected himself, _a Tirnai/Sidhe or whatever. _"Then how the hell do you get around?" he snapped.

"We fly." She answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

_Fly? But not on a broom. How convenient,_ he thought. "Well we're in luck. I can't fly." He weighed his options. It seemed the only option was to attempt a Side-along Apparition, since he really didn't want to fly all the way to London, anyway. _Shite,_ he had no desire to be that close to her, smelling her sweet hair, feeling her lithe form in his arms, feeling her arms wrapped around his waist... down, boy. Heel! _Argh…_The mere thought was torture enough. _I am going to die._ But at least he'll die happy.

"Well then, since I have no desire to trek cross-country, we'll have to Apparate tandemly." He resigned himself to his fate. After he had told her what that entailed, he took her in his arms and held her as far away as he could manage without splinching either of them. He never mentioned the fact that they could have simply held hands.

"Ready?" he asked, and before she could answer, he Apparated them both into the outskirts of Diagon Alley.

As Noira opened her mouth to answer, she felt a pressure from all sides, and felt a flutter of panic. _"Oh no."_ As they appeared in Diagon Alley, she felt a wave of dizziness hit her, and hung on to Snape for dear life.

She had thrown her arms around his neck to keep from falling and it was all that Snape could do to hold perfectly still. Merlin, he hated her. He could feel the softness of her curves through the fabric separating them. _Mmmm, soft... curves... damn!_ He was doing it again! _Add that onto his list of things he hated. _After a few minutes they realized they had yet to let go of each other and hastily leapt apart.

"Sorry about…"

"No, it's my…."

"Oh." Noira cleared her throat and rearranged her cloak. "So, care to show me the sights?" she asked lightly.

With a disparaging look thrown her way, he walked past her and made his way into the heart of Diagon Alley. "Ruddy tourist," he muttered. Noira snorted at his remark and moved to catch up.

Thirty minutes later, Snape found himself waiting outside a dressing room at Madame Malkin's. _Oh hell._ Somehow he instinctively knew that this was going to take them—_her_—awhile. He heard a voice calling from the other side of the curtain. "How cold does it get here in winter?" she asked. He absentmindedly fingered some of the dress robes hanging in front of him before answering, "Cold enough."

"And _how _cold would that be?"

He smirked to himself before giving her an answer. "Cold enough that the students have to thaw out their cauldrons to use them. Never mind that Hagrid has to break the ice in the troughs before he can feed the thestrals."

"Lovely," he heard her say. That almost brought a laugh to his lips. He was sure Noira enjoyed spending the night in his icebox abode. Hmm, that would just give him an excuse to allow her to cosy up next to him in his bed…

His musings were interrupted by one of the witches who worked in the store. "Sir, did you want your lady to try on this robe?"

"Hmm? Sure." He just wanted her to go away so he could get back to his daydreams.

_Oh, dear gods!_ Snape's eyes widened as the saleswitch removed the robe in question from the rack. He wasn't even sure if there was enough fabric there to even call it a dress, let alone a robe. The neckline was cut dangerously low, and the back dipped to what he was sure would be the small of Noira's back. He noted there was a slit that would go nearly all the way up her thigh. As the robe was removed from the rack, he saw how the silver silk shimmered and pooled as it was thrown over the witch's arm. He could clearly imagine how it would look dripped over Noira's body and how it would hug her curves with every step. _Sigh. _

_Wait a minute…try on?_ With horror, he realized exactly what he had agreed to and where the robe was going, but before he could say anything, the saleswitch had already passed Noira the outfit.

He already knew what was going to happen. Noira was going to _kill_ him. Why didn't he just hand the saleswitch some a corset while he was at it?

oOoOo

_Why is she handing me a dress?_ _A skimpy dress? _Noira wondered. Before she could ask, the saleswitch answered her like she had read her mind.

"Your gentleman friend wished for you to try this on as well," the saleswitch said.

"Thank you," _I guess._ Gentleman friend?

She gasped. _Severus…_ She narrowed her eyes and let them refocus on the ambient magic in the room. She searched for the glow that she knew was his darkness. Ooh, she could see him now, and had the faint impression that he was trying to look in any direction but her own—or that's what his magic was telling her. _That little bastard. _She looked down at the dress she was holding and shrugged. _Well, it is a _nice_ dress._

On a whim, she tried it on. _It fits nicely, as well. _

She chuckled and remembered that revenge is a dish best served cold. She'd get him back for handing her this outfit. She'd simply have to buy this outfit without his knowledge, and wear it on some later date. She could already see the look on his face when she did so.

Taking off the dress, she put back on the robes she had come with and called for the saleswitch. Handing her purchases to the saleswitch, she told her to hide the silver robes, she didn't want her 'gentleman friend' to see that she had got it. She mentioned that it was a surprise, _wink-wink._

But no, she would not let Snape get off scot-free; she'd still make him squirm for handing her such an outfit.

oOoOo

Snape watched as Noira came out of the dressing room, and he noticed that the silver robes in question were nowhere to be seen, and breathed a small sigh of relief. Perhaps she thought that the saleswitch had handed it to her by mistake? He saw her eyes meet his and flash with fury. _Or not._

He gulped and waited for the lashing to come.

He waited for the lashing to come.

He waited…_Oh gods._ He sighed in relief; it looked like he was going to live. Noira merely walked on past him on her way to the counter to pay for her clothes.

Snape came up behind her and waited for her to finish her transaction. A different saleswitch behind the counter looked up and started.

"P..Professor Snape, what a pleasant surprise to see you here. Have you need of new robes, perhaps something more modern in cut?"

He stared the witch down for her cheek, _suggesting he needed new robes, pah!_ "No, I find my current wardrobe sufficient to my needs," he said coldly. For some reason, she looked familiar, but he couldn't place why. He leaned against the counter and the witch took a step back. _There it was…_he recognized her now, she was an old student, and one of the most bumbling Hufflepuffs he had ever had the dubious pleasure to teach. "Miss Crichlow," he greeted her. He wondered if she had yet to get over her propensity for tripping.

"Good day, sir," she stammered. Innocently she asked, "Did you and your fiancée find everything alright?"

_How did she com up with that! _Noira looked at her the saleswitch in shock while Snape gave the saleswitch one of the most scathing looks he could muster and straightened up to his full height. "I am on guide duty, nothing more, Miss Crichlow. You would do best to remember that."

The young witch paled at her blunder. "My…my apologies, sir. I did not mean to…" A pained yelp interrupted her. "MMRRAOW!" As she stepped back, she tripped over the cat behind her and landed sprawled out on the floor.

_And the inevitable has just arrived. Guess she hasn't gotten over the propensity for tripping,_ Snape thought. He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, and not wanting to risk further confrontation, grabbed Noira's bags, shrank them, and ushered her forcefully out the door.

The witch behind the counter struggled to regain her footing. "Have a good day, sir," she called out weakly as the door shut with the clang of a bell.

Snape trudged out the door, dragging the confused Tirnai with him. "What was that?" Noira snapped as she wrenched her arm from his strong grasp.

"An extreme annoyance I have no wish to repeat." Noira glared at him, her eyes demanding an explanation for his rough treatment.

He glared back at her and moved close enough that she was forced to look up to keep her eyes on his face.

He moved closer to her, till their faces were inches apart, with a snarl deeply etched on his. His nerves had had enough. "I have waited for you in the same bloody shop for almost two hours now, following you helplessly around like some little duckling, and then that foolish girl had the audacity to think we were engaged. What the hell do you want from me? I am sick and tired of this cursed bond and I could care less if I ever see your damned face again once this next week is through!" _LIAR!_ his subconscious screamed at him.

Noira moved in with a snarl to match, except she had the fangs to do it justice. "Well, if you were so _kazis_ bored, why the hell didn't you say anything? I would have cut my leisure time to suit _your _schedule. I even asked you if there was anything you wanted to do today, but you said 'No, I'll just follow you around.' And guess what? I took you at your word. If you don't have enough mind to say what you want, how on earth do you expect to get anything you want? You want to go somewhere, tell me. You want recognition, then you had better well ask for it. You want me to cater to your whims, but if you don't tell me what you want then how do you expect me to do so?" She was so angry, her words were running together.

By the time she had finished, the crowd had given the two of them a wide berth, like they expected Noira and Snape to spontaneously combust. Noira growled in frustration and shoved him forward. "Pick a place. I will follow _you_ this time," she snapped. "And what was with that dress? Are you _trying_ to make me look like a tart?"

"_That _was an accident." Snape gave the crowd around them his stare of death, then gathered his robes and moved on, daring someone to get in his way. The bystanders all jumped to get out of the path of the furious Potions Master. _That little bitch,_ he thought,_ I wait on her hand and foot and then she has the gall to blame everything on me. Where is that damned Davoskis?_

As they reached the apothecary's, Snape glanced at a wizard sitting on a bench right outside the shop door. _Odd,_ he thought. He didn't remember that bench being there the first time they went by. Deciding to keep a careful watch on its occupant, he made his way inside, followed by his shadow.

As they walked back out of the shop, Snape came to a screeching halt. _The bench is gone. _"The bench is gone," he hissed in her ear. Noira felt a cold breeze go past her. She instantly forced herself to overlook her distaste for Snape and threaded her arm through his, much like a lover would. She leaned in close for the benefit of anyone watching them and whispered in his ear, "Beware of someone following…" Snape nodded in response, placed his hand over hers, and pulled her into the first side alley he came across.

A quick glamour later and a change from black hair to blond and brown, and black robes to blue, they stepped out of the alley arm in arm. Snape caught sight of the wizard that had been sitting on the non-existent park bench, and squeezed Noira's hand to get her attention. He surreptitiously pointed in that direction with the hand that now clutched hers, and she nodded in recognition. Snape had enough experience trying to avoid being seen during his career; he knew that they had to move – _fast_.

He fingered his wand, and with a determined pace, they set out in the direction of the market stalls. He hoped to lose whoever was following them in the crowds. As they drew nearer to the market stalls, the crowd grew dense and obscured their view. Abruptly changing direction, they went with the flow of the crowd before pulling off into a random shop. _A fortune teller's, joy._ This time, as they left the shop, Noira felt the cold chill sweep behind them. She turned to see what other shops were around, and their tail had disappeared from sight.

They quickly made their way to Flourish and Blott's. Here, the aisles were narrow and the customers few, leaving them plenty of room to talk. "He reeks of darkness," she hissed as soon as there was no one around.

"How can you tell?" he murmured, determined to find out how best to deal with their predicament.

Noira grabbed a random book from the shelf and began perusing it as a couple went by. She raised the book to Snape as if she was showing him a passage and murmured, "I could feel the cold rolling off of him as he passed. He is actively cloaking his magic, so I could not read it, but unfortunately, and fortunately for us, you cannot cloak and see at the same time. He is not a wizard, the aura is slightly different."

Snape threw her a calculating glance, "Like how your magic feels different, even when we cast spells with the same goal. Then, is he a Tirnai?" He watched her eyes carefully for her reaction.

She stared out into space pensively before answering carefully. "He is of our kind…but not of _my_ kind."

_What does that mean?_ But before he could voice his question, she had pulled them towards the door. "As long as I am feeling him, he can most certainly feel me. We must keep moving."

Snape pulled his wand completely out of his robes, and held it firmly in his grasp; he only hoped that the person following them, be he wizard or Tirnai or something else entirely, wasn't stupid enough to try something in public. Noira changed their appearance yet again before heading back out into the street.

This time, he could feel the darkness as well. This was not going to end well if they could not get away. They couldn't risk Noira performing any magic; the moment she did so much as levitate a feather, any decent witch or wizard would be able to tell there was something different about her. It seemed that Noira didn't mind this danger at all. The moment his eyes returned to her, he could see her hands beginning to glow. _"What are you doing?"_ He whispered viciously at her. _Stupid chit, anyone could see her._

"I'm trying to get us out of this," she murmured through gritted teeth.

"_Hurry up!"_ He wouldn't DARE tell her not to do it. She'd just give him that icy glare and go ahead with what she was planning anyway. He was concerned that someone would see the magic in the air.

She chanted under her breath and a cloudy haze appeared around them. The haze congealed, and then disappeared from sight as they kept going. "How far to the next alley?"

"About two metres, next to the pub." His eyes searched for any sign they were being watched.

"When we get there, pull us in." As they reached the entrance to the alleyway, he pulled her in and pressed her into the wall hide them both. To his amazement, the exact images of themselves walked right on by, and people even got out of their way. _What was that?_

His attention was drawn to the haggard and pale face of the Tirnai in his arms. Noira was trembling from exertion, and she took in the surprised look on the face of her counterpart.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

She could feel the shadow drawing nearer. Without a moment's hesitation, she cloaked her magic and shoved him backwards until he came to sit on the empty crates outside the back entrance to the pub. She straddled him and hissed in his face, _"Later."_

He tried to shove her off his lap. "What the hell do you think you are doing? This is no time to play whatever games…"

She grabbed his face and gave him a growl of warning. With bared fangs she hissed, "_Bodais_ play along! If anyone sees us, they'll move right along, thinking I'm '_just some tart with her gov'na._' I believe whores work much the same in all countries, no?" She lowered her face until it was only a hairsbreadth from his, hiding both their features with her currently blond hair.

He sneered at her and tried to shove her off yet again. "Get off! There are other ways of losing a tail."

Her anger and fear of being caught flooded her with adrenaline, and it combined with the exhausted euphoria brought on by her self-imposed magic drain. It gave her a rush, and she panted with the swirl of feeling flooding her senses. She was flushed and no longer herself. She felt something in her mind snap. This—this was her demi-form, the creature inside her, taking over. She could feel the feathers forming on her scalp. _Just shut up already._ She gripped his shoulders firmly and appraised him with glowing eyes. Her lips curled into a feral grin. She decided to shut him up in the only way she could.

oOoOo

"Get off!" he growled at her. When she had grabbed him forcefully, he became painfully aware of her sudden shift in mood. He looked up at her and was startled to see her glamour fade away to reveal her normal features. A line from his reading popped unbidden into his mind: _"They can shape shift into a form that would best please their human prey…" _

_Bloody hell—_now _he_ was the prey—_but, oh it's pleasing._ They way she was looking at him; it looked like she was going to devour him. He watched, fascinated, as her hair shifted further and took on streaks of red and gold feathers. Still, he instinctively scooted away from her when she smiled and revealed her fangs. Now he knew he was prey—and cornered. "I don't know what you're thinking Noira, but…"

Her lips silenced him with a kiss.


	18. High Powered Explosives Part 2

High Powered Explosives – Part, the Second 

_What the hell…_ Any protest he was about to make died the instant her mouth captured his. He relished the softness of her first hesitant brushes, only to drown when she made full contact. She was still straddling his lap and she worked herself closer until their bodies were practically one. His hand reached up of its own accord and anchored itself firmly in the mass of her hair. That was all it took to set off the explosion—he had to have more.

The kiss became savage as he ran his free hand down her side, stroking and caressing every curve he came across. She ground her hips into his lap and purred with pleasure as his tongue found her own. He moaned in response when her fangs teased his lips, and she bit him softly, then sharply, pulling on his lips as if to keep them for herself. Her hands roamed over him possessively as their kiss went on and on.

Unbeknownst to either of them, a tawny owl glided its way into the small alley they occupied and perched on a drainage spout above them. _"Hoo-oot!" _The small creature's eyes widened more than an owl's should when it took in the state they were in. He could hear the muffled moans coming from a few feet away. _Ugh, I feel like a freaking voyeur._ The owl was disgusted. With a hoot of disapproval that went entirely ignored, it floated to the ground and began to change back into its human form.

His shift back to normal was ignored as well, so wrapped up were they in one another. He wondered if they had even realized that they had succeeded in loosing their stalker. Repressing the urge to yell at them to get a room, he merely leaned against the wall and cleared his throat to get their attention.

"_Ahem."_

oOoOo

Snape couldn't believe it. There was a woman in his lap and kissing him passionately. When had he died and gone to heaven? He didn't understand why he was allowing this to go on, but he wasn't about to stop. He doubted whether he _could_ stop. He felt like a starving hippogriff that had just caught his deer. His lips moved down to lavish their attentions on the curve of her throat. He didn't know why this was happening, all he knew was that he craved this, craved her. She had been so close to him, but untouchable. No, he had to admire from afar. She was greatness, perfection, and had come to him willingly, who was he to throw back such a gift?

oOoOo

Their watcher's disgust with them turned into a bout of nausea. "_Ay, burri' karito dis Doshe_," he finally spit out.

Noira tore her lips away with a swear. "What?"

"Well it's about time, Your Highness, I hope you weren't too busy."

_Busy? _She asked herself, _I was waiting for you to show up. Oh…_ It took her a few moments to realize how things looked—hell, how they _were. "Shite!" _They sprang apart as they both came to their senses.

"It's entirely your fault!" they both cried.

"How dare you kiss me like that!" she hissed furiously as she wiped her mouth, ashamed of her own actions.

_How dare she blame this on me! _"Me kiss you?" Snape scoffed as he smoothed his robes. "Ha! That's rich, considering you're the one who climbed into my lap in the first place!"

"I did not! You pulled me there."

"No, you placed yourself there."

"Well, then what were you doing with your tongue stuck down my throat?"

"What were you doing unbuttoning my shirt?"

"What were you doing with your hand up my skirt?"

He watched them trade the blame like verbal table tennis. He also had a feeling that they did this a lot. With another sigh he leaned against the wall and cleared his throat again. "When you two lovebirds are done, I'm still waiting…" He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time._ I've been here for ten minutes, come on already!_

At that last statement, they both flushed guiltily and turned to face their contact. Noira was the first to speak. "_Hem. _Ah, Davoskis Rolan, we've been waiting for you."

"I can tell," Rolan muttered under his breath.

"Your Highness," he said as he genuflected. "Here is a scroll from the Tha'abas, and this satchel that goes with it."

Noira looked at the messenger. "Did my father say what this was for?"

"No, my Lady, though he did say you might find it useful, and he apologizes for not getting this to you earlier."

"I must be off." Rolan rose from his obeisance, took one careful look around, turned back into an owl, and flew off.

Snape and Noira turned to look at each other again. Snape's fists were rhythmically clenching and unclenching with tension, which was positively fidgety for him. Noira blushed again and couldn't look him in the eye. They stood there for a few moments.

This time, Snape was the first to speak. "What's in the satchel, your Highness?" He couldn't help but snigger at the thought of that Davoskis catching his princess in the position they were in. Ah, it was another defamation he could claim as his own work.

She ignored the ridicule sent in her direction. Her mind was busy with other things. "Not here," she looked around nervously as she twisted the ring on her finger. "I will look when we get back to Hogwarts."

Together, they realized the part that came next: Apparition. Damn. Snape opened his arms to enfold her, and she just stood there like someone had cast _Petrificus_ on her. "Well?" he snapped. "Come on."

Noira watched Snape warily. Why did she kiss him? For that matter, she had nearly attacked him. Now that she had control over herself once more, she could not fathom the reasoning behind her actions. Somehow he had awakened a need deep within her, and as she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, she could taste the residual of him, and the tingle of his magic. Oh, but it was a glorious taste, a divine maliciousness of strength and power. Truth be told, the kiss hadn't been half bad, if he only had …_Stop it. I refuse to even imagine such things about that slithery serpent._ As she continued to look him over, she noticed that he seemed disconcerted as well; perhaps it would be best to simply forget that that entire episode had happened. As long as she kept telling herself that, she figured she would be fine.

Noira stepped gingerly into his arms only to pull away like she was burned when he tried to embrace her. She eyed him warily before approaching him once more and wrapping her arms around his waist. _Don't react, don't react._ With a _crack,_ they Disapparated to the gate outside Hogwarts.

oOoOo

They had tumbled—she had tumbled—back onto Hogwarts' grounds and made their way back to her rooms. They stayed as far away from each other as possible. While walking, they had both come to the conclusion that they would never talk about what happened in that alley, except about the satchel and scroll, of course. There were far more issues to cover in that incident than there were hours in a day.

They made their way up to the Headmaster's office where they gave their report — leaving out certain details, of course. When they finished, they waited for the Headmaster to say something.

The entire time they had been talking, Dumbledore had been eyeing them carefully over his spectacles. He noticed the dishevelled state they were in and how they wouldn't look at one another, and his eyes contained a hint of a twinkle. He knew there was something they had left out of their tale and he couldn't wait to tell the Tha'abas about it.

Dumbledore was relieved yet disconcerted about the identity of their follower; relieved that it was not a Death Eater, but disconcerted that it had been another Tirnai. _No, she had said similar but not. Hmm… now I have a real reason to call on him._ Dumbledore noticed that they had finished relaying the events of their mission, and were waiting for a response.

"Well, splendid job with throwing off that tail. That was an astounding piece of magic you pulled, Noira. Yes, a very advanced charm indeed."

Noira sank wearily down into the chair. "It was…very draining."

"I can imagine. You had to not only make the illusion corporeal enough to be believable, but also throw off enough energy to not be noticeable yourself." Dumbledore noticed her hair beginning to shift hues from black to the beginning of red and gold. He did not know what would cause such a change, but he had a feeling it was one of the things that the Tha'abas had not told him about. "Severus, escort Noira to Poppy and have Poppy give some Pepper-Up, will you?" Whatever it was, perhaps he could do something to help Noira with it.

Snape resisted rolling his eyes. _Now I'm a nurse,_ he thought.

Noira bolted upright in her chair, causing the red and gold to momentarily form feathers before fading away completely to black. Dumbledore noted with relief that Snape had been looking the other way. "No! No…I just need to lie down, I'll be alright…just tired." She looked like she was about to faint.

Dumbledore wondered why she had refused. "In that case, Severus, escort her back to your rooms. You look like you could use some rest yourself." Snape mumbled under his breath that what he really needed to do was grade papers. Dumbledore shooed them off with a small wave. "Go on, we will talk about the rest on Monday before classes."

oOoOo

Back in the dungeons, neither had said a thing about what happened in the alley. Noira was embarrassed that she had lost control like that and Snape, well Snape didn't know what to think. _She must be using me,_ he thought as he paced beside the bed where Noira was currently sleeping off her magic drain. _Why else would she have kissed me? __There is no possible way she could actually want me. She's a bloody princess. Merlin's beard! I should have stayed away from her to begin with. Every night I wish I would wake up with her in my arms again, but she'd probably strangle me with her lasso. _His hand ghosted over her face. He resisted the urge to touch her.

_So beautiful, so impossibly perfect! _His flesh craved hers. She had taunted him unceasingly for the past two weeks, and now he couldn't even stop thinking about her. _Hell._ What he needed was a shot of firewhisky (or six), but that was in the other room. He watched her as she moaned lightly and turned over in her sleep. His eyes glittered with hunger; he wanted to be the one to make her moan! He wanted to make her his, but he knew he had only a slim chance of that ever occurring.

Her lips were slightly open and the light from the fireplace glinted on her fangs. _Sidhe… _His black eyes narrowed in anger. How he hated her! He loathed the fire she kindled within him. No one had ever affected him so; it had been years since he had even _thought_ about a woman that way. He remembered the passion that blazed through that kiss. It felt as if she had wanted to crawl inside his skin and renew his tarnished soul. _No,_ he thought, _it's a trick._ He had to put a stop to his revolting infatuation before it got the best of him. If only he had the willpower…

oOoOo

Monday came around and Snape and Noira found themselves once again riding the stairs to the Headmaster's office. Once they had seated themselves and rejected the almost ritualistically proffered sherbet lemon, they got down to business. She pulled out the satchel and opened it for the first time.

Snape and Dumbledore waited in silence as she read the scroll that had arrived with the satchel. They watched as her expression grew darker and darker.

Noira finally finished reading and raised her head.

"Well?" Dumbledore asked.

"There was a missing page."

"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore didn't understand what she meant by that.

"The potion, the Saving Ice, we were missing a page of instructions."

Snape stifled a snort. He knew there was something not quite right with the directions they had, even when he wasn't purposefully bungling them. Who measures potions with _handfuls_? "Would this perchance explain the 'handful' of Korynth roots?"

"In fact, yes. My father just sent us a copy of the original recipe, along with another batch of roots." Snape noted that she didn't look too happy at this fact.

"What does it say about the roots?" he asked.

He saw her scan the scroll. "Ah, here it is. Let me give you an exact translation. 'The hands of a sword bearer, tried and true, filled to the brim as if holding his enemy's blood. This is the amount of Korynth root to use.'"

_Ooo, ouch._ The Potions Master flinched and he saw the alchemist in Dumbledore do the same. That was how the measurements were recorded? In _metaphor!_ Forget the fact that it was bloodthirsty metaphor. Snape had a feeling this project was going to take them a _long_ time.

Dumbledore leaned forward. "Is every step recorded in such a manner?"

"You mean in bloodthirsty metaphor with endless room for interpretation? Yes. The ancient Tirnai were…_big_ on the use of ambiguous language."

"Why?" Snape asked.

"No one can copy your work if they cannot understand what you did, can they?"

Snape saw her smile and smirked back. "It doesn't help if you can't understand your own directions, either. Why couldn't it have been written in code? At least we'd only have to break that."

Noira groaned and shook her head. "Trust me. Code and the Tirnai language do not mix. Take this one passage, for example. It could mean a level handful since the hands are filled with liquid, or it could mean a _generous_ handful, since they are filled with the blood of the enemy. Knowing the context, the second is most plausible, but imagine if the passage was encoded. The code would have to be interpreted for context and idiomatics, and then the same process would have to be repeated for the text itself. No, thank you."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well then, it appears that the two have your work cut out for you. Let me know if you have any progress."

That was Dumbledorian for 'Oh dear, better you than me! Good luck getting nowhere.'

With that translated statement, they knew they were dismissed.

oOoOo

They made their way down to Noira's rooms, where she warded the Korynth roots and scroll in a drawer. She wove an impenetrable field around the drawer, and Snape watched the ward shimmer blue and orange before it disappeared from sight.

Snape thought that the number of wards she put on the drawer rivalled the number Dumbledore had had on the Philosopher's Stone. _Well, maybe more, _Snape conceded, _although that dog was pretty effective...until you brought a harp. _He still had the scars to prove it.

Noira caught Snape looking at her like she was crazy. "We take the security of our documents very seriously. Especially something like this."

"Like what?"

"An ancient cordial that our enemies would kill to posses."

Snape realized something. "So _that_'s why we were being followed through Diagon Alley. That was one of your enemies, desperate to steal whatever we were there for."

"Precisely."

There was something still bothering him. "Then, what was that entire…um…"

"Snogging session about?" The glint in Noira's eyes belied the seriousness of her tone. "No Tirnai princess would dare sully herself by carrying on with something as low as a human," she said haughtily as she crossed her arms.

Snape snorted in spite of himself. She was lecturing about blood purity to a Slytherin! "Or so you say." He'd find a way to make her change her mind. Hold on—he hated her! That's right. _It's more like me lowering myself to consort with a Tirnai; yes, that's more like it, _he though.

He turned and led her out the door. As they stepped out into the hall, she stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. "Wait." Her hand lightly caressed the fabric of his robes.

_I hate her, I hate her…_He could feel his iron self-control crumble like a Bowtruckle caught in a hailstorm. He did _not _need her hand on his chest. He was having a hard enough time as it was trying to ignore her. He saw her step closer and raise her head and hand as if asking permission. _What is she doing?_ He seemed to have granted it, or his head had a mind of its own, as he had lowered it in response. _I hate her, I hate her, I…Oohhh…sod it all. I want her, so screw self-control. _He lowered his mouth to receive the kiss that was surely his, and he unconsciously licked his lips as he thought of how sweet that kiss would be. He felt her hand caress his unworthy hair and he moved in closer at her touch.

"AH HA HA HA HA! THEY'RE IN LURRVVE! WEEEEEE!"

"DAMN YOU, PEEVES!"

Noira pulled back and shot daggers with her eyes at the fleeing poltergeist. _"Stupid poltergeist,"_ she muttered. She turned and looked back at Snape to see him staring at her with glittering eyes. "What? There was a piece of lint in your hair, but it's gone now." She saw him sigh. Why did he look so disappointed?

oOoOo

The fourth year potions class of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws was halfway done, and half of the students had yet to fail completely, when a cackling voice could be heard echoing through the stone walls.

"_You took your troubles to the greasy git._

_You know that bastard who's a flop with chicks._

_He saw you standing there and thought that you were fine,_

_He fed you a bottle of Love Potion Number Nine"_

_What in Merlin's name is that? _The class went wide-eyed with terror as their feared Potions Master paled beyond his normally sallow state before flushing red with anger. His teeth could be heard grinding from the other side of the room. They had never before seen him so angry. They sat absolutely still, hoping to be able to leave the dungeon with all of their limbs correctly attached. The class was three seconds away from setting their shielding charms and waiting for the hexes to fly.

"_I don't know what it is you see in that git._

_I bet all he that can see is your tits._

_So he gave you a cup of what you prob'ly thought was wine,_

_Instead it was a cup of Love Potion Number Nine"_

_That lewd little bastard. _It was Noira's turn to flush with anger. "What foolishness is this?" She had begun to growl as she looked around the class.

The pair stalked about the room determined to find the source of the offensive drivel. They walked up to the front of the room and Snape addressed the class. "Alright—_hic—_who is the culprit?" he demanded. "Whoever—_hic—_decided that this was their idea of a joke had—_hic—_better stop right now and confess before they—_hic_—find their House pointless."

_Damn. _Noira perceived the tangle of magic in his diaphragm, and reached out to untangle it from afar, ending the hiccoughs. Snape glared across the room, daring them to say anything. He paced as the singing went on.

Luna Lovegood raised her hand and said dreamily, "It sounds like a Yellow-bellied Bawdybird. They've been known to sing without showing themselves; they're too scared, you see."

_What?_ Snape looked to the gods for patience, and ignored the girl.

"_You didn't know if it was day or night,_

_You started kissin' everything in sight"_

He tried a silencing charm, but it had no effect. He faced his class once more and his voice was dark and almost a whisper. "For every second that passes that the culprit does not confess, the _entire_ class will suffer a night's detention with Filch."

"_But when you snogged the bat in the dreary dungeon hall_

_He held you close and whispered, 'broom closet or the wall?'"_

"I'm counting…" The class sat in stony silence as his eyes pierced the room. Eventually, a Muggleborn Ravenclaw timidly raised his hand.

"What?" he snapped.

"Please sir," the student started, "it sounds like Peeves."

He waited impatiently for the child to finish his explanation. "It sounds like he took a Muggle song and changed the words." The student flinched as Snape stepped closer.

"And what song is this?" he asked, his voice stone cold and black as night.

The Ravenclaw tried to sink down into his seat. "Love Potion Number Nine," he finally squeaked.

"Peeves!" he whispered dangerously. "I'll have the Headmaster remove you for sure!" He received a raspberry in reply. "This is completely inappropriate, Peeves! Come out or I'm sending the Baron after you!" _Forget that, I'll exorcise him myself._

Noira approached Snape from behind. "You know, there are very few personal problems that cannot be solved by a suitable application of high-powered explosives."

That statement was random enough to draw his attention. _Ah,_ he realized where she was going with this. He looked at her inquisitively. "True, but you'd have to make him corporeal."

She had a wicked grin on. "I've done it before." Snape smiled deviously, sending his class into a higher state of terror. "Call him," he said.

"Peeves!" She shouted, and Peeves came sailing into view, still humming his damn tune and blowing raspberries at everyone in sight.

"_And so that's how it is every day._

_You know that bat won't let you get away._

_But from the sounds in your bed, you really like to play;_

_You would let him shag you every night and every way"_

Noira gasped. _We did not…_Noira remembered how Peeves had been outside her room that night, and realized he had probably heard them scream when they had woken from their dream. The little halfwit had conveniently misconstrued the reason behind the screaming for his own dastardly purpose. _"Ni kametudeti e 'na di' Tifali,"_ she cursed.

Noira clutched her lasso, waiting for the right moment. "How original," she taunted Peeves. "Taking a song about a potion and applying it to a Potions Master. _Tsk, tsk_."

Peeves was floating in circles laughing. Noira reigned in her temper, and leaned against the desk as if she hadn't a care in the world.

Snape joined in with their taunting. "It seems the closest that waste-of-an-afterlife will ever get to a brainstorm is a light drizzle."

Peeves was getting angry. He didn't like it when others didn't like his jokes.

Noira winked at Snape. "Who else would have the gall to sing it?"

"Just someone with a puerile brain," he countered.

"_They say that all the harpies are filthy, nasty folk. But take one look at Rohal and you'll really wanna choke!"_ Peeves was in for the beating of his afterlife.

She raised an eyebrow. "A harpy, am I? Then you seem to have made a miscalculation, my dear poltergeist…" She muttered a tune under her breath and her lasso began to glow. "Because what we harpies do best… is VENGEANCE!"

Peeves never noticed the glowing lasso until it was tight around his throat. _Oh no. _She took of the lasso and grabbed the now-solid poltergeist by the scruff of his neck. "Did you have your fun, Peeves?" she asked before winding him up like a baseball and launching him into the too small cage Snape had conjured. The door closed with a satisfying slam as Snape shut Peeves inside. "That was almost too easy," he said.

"Indeed. Now _we _get to have a little fun."

"Muggle or magic explosives?"

_That was sooo cool. _The class sat in awe and all (well, most) of the tension in the room diffused. Two Hufflepuffs suddenly broke out into song. _"There's something weird, and it don't look good. Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!"_

The two teachers looked at them like they were crazy. "Sorry," they said sheepishly, "It's a Muggle thing."

oOoOo

"_Ay, burri' karito dis Doshe_," – Oh, for the love of God.

"_Ni kametnieti ud e 'na di' Tifali." – _I will burn you with the fires of hell. (Someone's vindictive, _snerk_).

Alright, here's the fallout. There is a reference to POTO, a song filk of "Love Potion No. 9," and of course, "Ghostbusters."


	19. Teacha teacha teacha teach me!

Disclaimer: Need I say it again? _See the Prologue_

**Teach-a teach-a teach-a teach me! **

Peeves had been thoroughly blasted, smashed, imploded and exploded by the time his body had become once again immaterial. He had howled and screamed his fury, but not one of his fellow spectres had come to his rescue. Even Moaning Myrtle had told him it was his fault. She was as bad as he was! Okay, so she didn't play tricks with the stairs, or with the vanishing cabinet, or kick Mrs. Norris, or torment the ickle firsties, or knock statues on people's heads, or throw ink bottles in the library... Anyways, he thought she was annoying as...well, him.

In spite of not having any permanent damage, Peeves had been certainly cowed by his treatment, and his pranking was on permanent hiatus as far as the two professors were concerned. In fact, he became downright congenial, even days after the fact.

Well, _almost_ congenial.

"Do Scary Harpy and Greasy Git need something-bumthing else?" Peeves asked Noira and Snape as they sat in her office after dinner on Wednesday.

Oh, he's a silly little poltergeist. "Remember, Peeves, we already talked with the Headmaster about your behaviour on Monday. _Someone_ might find themselves exorcised if they don't conduct themselves a befitting manner. But no, we don't need a thing right now," Noira answered the poltergeist. She was lounging in her chair with her booted feet resting on top of her desk. Running through the scroll her father had sent, she was busy translating it from its original language into something Snape could understand.

Snape was sitting on her couch, thumbing through his own book as well. He was positively certain Noira was a Sidhe. All he needed was a few more bits of information and it would be impossible for her to worm her way out of that conversation. But, every time he had tried to read, he had been interrupted by either Noira asking a question or that damned fool poltergeist looking over his shoulder. Now that she was occupied, and Peeves busy spinning in circles, he picked up reading where he had last left off.

"_The fangues be the surest signhe of a Sidhe. They art shapeshiffters through an through, yet they cainnot hidde theyr origen. They canne make ye see what they wisch, and rely on foolish mortale mynds to do it." _

_Well, she definitely has fangs, and the illusion she pulled. _Ha! He had it! He stored this information away for future use. But shapeshifter? Was that more like an animagus, or did it mean something else completely? He noted that you _could_ say her shape had shifted with each glamour she had used that past Saturday, but for some reason, he didn't think that was what the book had in mind. Oh well, he'd think more on that later.

He looked up and watched Noira as she read. He could no longer deny it: Sidhe or not, he wanted her. It would have been supremely humiliating if he had kissed her on Monday. He had been so sure of what she was going to do, but no, it was _lint in his hair._ Snape simply wanted to growl with the injustice of it all.

He couldn't even build a good rage against her anymore. It only took him a few days to realize that 'I hate her' was coming out more like 'I think I'm beginning to like her.' He was _not_ going to dwell on that thought, especially if he had no chance at reciprocation.

But, what was he going to do about his infatuation? Did she even desire him back? There had been so much passion in the kiss they shared in that alley, but there had never been a repeat. Snape was shaking with the need to do something about his situation, but what?

_Oh, Salazar's shorts. _Snape knew what he had to do; he needed to go for advice. And curses, he _needed_ advice, or Merlin help him, this budding relationship would take a suicidal broom dive to the ground…like he did with Lily. He groaned at the thought.

Now was the time to act.

"Noira?" he asked suddenly. "Would you mind accompanying me to the staffroom?"

Noira looked up from her work. "Sure, why?"

Snape winced; he hoped she wouldn't ask that question. "Well, you see, I need some help from someone…on something," he finished lamely.

"Oh, alright. Simply let me finish translating this sentence."

oOoOo

"Well, you see, I need some help from someone…on something,"

Noira looked askance at Snape as he made that last statement. There were several things distinctly un-Snapelike about his last two sentences. Since when did Snape ever _ask_ if she wanted to go somewhere? Since when has he ever voluntarily asked for help? And why was he hem-hawing around and being so inordinately vague?

"Oh, alright," she finally answered. At least she had to tag along; she would see what he was _really_ up to.

oOoOo

They made their way to the staffroom, and as they walked, Noira noticed how Snape seemed to jump every time she came near him. It wasn't like she could have stayed away; they were still joined at the hip (or at the wrist, rather) with that damn proximity bond.

As soon as they entered the room, it seemed that Snape lost all interest in asking this "someone" about "something," and merely motioned for her to sit down, which she did. When she asked why they were there, he responded, "I thought you'd like a change in scenery for a while." Yeah, _right._

After she had sat, Snape had moved a few steps away and Flitwick stepped right up into his place. "Oh, Noira, we haven't had a chance to chat for awhile. Tell me exactly how this music of yours works. It sounds so interesting…"

oOoOo

Snape moved back and watched as Flitwick conveniently moved in to make conversation. That couldn't have happened any better than if he had planned it.

Now it was time for him to seek some…_gulp,_ help.

Turning, he sought out Hadley. Ah, there he was, playing wizard's chess with McGonagall again. Didn't those two _ever_ do anything else?

"Hadley, could you come here for a moment? I had a question over some runes I found in my reading." Or at least, that was his excuse for starting the conversation.

Hadley looked up when Snape called him. "Sure thing, mate."

McGonagall triumphantly moved her bishop. "Checkmate."

"Goodness, Minerva, you've beat me again," said Hadley as he surveyed the chess board. "We'll rematch tomorrow." Hadley got up and walked over to where Snape stood. "What can I do you for?"

Snape reached out and grabbed Hadley by the sleeve, pulling him closer, as he cast _Muffliato_. Noira didn't need to hear this conversation, and for that matter, neither did the rest of the people in the staff room.

"Strewth, Severus. What was that for? Found the lost scroll from the Kama Sutra or something and you don't want them to know about it?" said Hadley as soon as Snape finished.

Snape didn't say anything, but stared off into space.

Hadley followed the line of Snape's gaze to where Noira sat, back up to Snape, back to where Noira sat, and once more to Snape. There was an unfamiliar glint to Snape's eyes, and Hadley immediately figured out what was going on. "Ah, it's about time that you found yourself a lady," he chuckled.

Snape's reply was terse, "I haven't exactly gotten that far yet…not that I, in fact, _want_ to 'get that far' anyway."

"Oh, I see." Hadley read between the lines; he knew where this was going. "So, how far _have_ you gotten?"

Hadley saw Snape unconsciously lick his lips as he continued to stare Noira's way, and Hadley's eyes widened in recognition. "Aw, you've kissed her haven't you? No, let me guess... You've gone and snogged her, you lucky bastard. Come on, tell a bloke about it." He elbowed Snape in the side.

Snape snapped out of his reverie. "I will most certainly _not_ tell you about it."

"She was good then?"

Snape gave him a dark look.

"Oh, fine then, be a spoilsport." Hadley became serious. "So, what do you need my help for? It sounds like you've got her already."

Snape avoided Hadley's gaze. "I didn't ask for your help, and I said that I don't want her. Look, can't you just give me your Hufflepuff advice so I can leave?" he sneered, ignoring the obvious contradiction in his statement.

Hadley remained calm with hopes of getting a rise, and therefore an explanation, out of Snape. "If you don't tell me what's going on, I can't do a thing about it…"

Snape stayed silent.

"Did you do anything else besides kiss her?" Hadley tried.

"Like?" Snape's voice was sharp with his temper.

"I don't know…take her on a date?"

Snape's scowl deepened. "When and how would a pair of teachers achieve that?"

Hadley felt like he was grasping at straws. "I'll take that as a 'no' then, mate. Have you spent loads of time together?" Hadley answered his own question. "Of course you have, you're joined at the wrist. Have you given her flowers?"

"No."

"Complimented her?"

"I don't even compliment my Slytherins."

"Righty then." Hadley ran out of ideas. "What _have _you done? I don't have enough information to work with."

"That's it," Snape mumbled.

_Huh? _"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"That. Is. It," Snape finally ground out.

"So then, why'd you snog her if you don't want her? You obviously didn't try anything else. Just checking to see what it would be like?" Hadley teased him, and then he realized an inconsistency Snape's story. "How in the world did you manage to snog her without doing any of the requisite stuff before that?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. _"I can't believe I'm having this conversation,"_ he mumbled. He looked back up at Hadley. "Trust me, it happened, and that's all you need to know."

"So what do you want from me, since you don't like her?"

Hadley saw Snape look up at the sky like he was asking for mercy. "I never said I didn't like her."

_Ha!_ "Yes, you did."

"No, I—"

Hadley was on a roll. "Well, since you don't want her, do you mind if I have a go? Free game, and all that."

Snape was rapidly becoming apoplectic, and had a death grip on his wand. _"Hadley!"_

Hadley sighed. He decided to appease the green-eyed monster before Unforgivables started launching themselves in his direction. "Look, Severus. I'm just messing with you. I won't go after her. Now, in any other situation…" He saw Snape's grip tightening again. "Alright, what do you need me to help you with?"

"I need you to—" Snape abruptly changed tactics. "I know that I am a complete idiot and would you please help me before I manage to turn my life into a worse hell than it already is? _Is that what you wanted to hear?_" Snape was snarling through clenched teeth, and Hadley was a little taken aback at the obvious effort it had taken to make that confession.

Hadley looked at Snape with mild shock. What was so difficult about falling for a lovely lady? "Wow, you've got it bad."

Snape hung his head and hid behind his hair, but that didn't stop a sarcastic comment from slipping out. "What would we do without your astonishing powers of observation?"

Hadley made up his mind to help the poor bloke. He'd known Snape since they had both gone to Hogwarts as students, and that was long enough for Hadley to realize that this was definitely not some passing fancy. Come to think of it, he didn't think Snape _did_ passing fancies. Or fancies at all, for that matter. Well, there was that time in sixth year when –

"Well, keep your chin up, mate. We'll figure this one out." Hadley paused. "Um, how much time do you have before she drags you back out of here?"

"However long we need."

Well, that answered his question. Snape was definitely serious about this one.

"Alright." Hadley said as he rubbed his hands together. "Now begins Operation: Nab Noira."

Snape rolled his eyes in disbelief and resisted the urge to throttle Hadley. He had to remember that he was here to…um, _learn_, and it would not do to kill his teacher…yet.

Hadley heard Snape groan. "Oh, what? You don't like the name? You can always call it O.N.N. for short. Or how about 'Time You Realized Noira's Often Nice? Then we could call it TURN-ON instead, you like that better?"

"_Hadley…"_

"Fine, fine." Hadley thought for a moment. "Have you at least talked with the shiela?"

Snape crossed his arms defensively. "Yes, I've talked with her. What, do you think I've—?"

"No, mate," Hadley interrupted. "Have you held an honest-to-goodness _conversation_ with her?"

"Well, yes," Snape said gruffly.

"About what?" Hadley was looking forward to hearing the answer.

"We talked about…just the other day we…well, I…" Snape realized the absurdity of his situation. "I don't do idle chitchat."

"Well, talk to her about _something_, anything at all. Hold on…" Hadley thought for a moment. "She isn't from around here, is she?"

"No," Snape answered warily.

"Well, if I were her, I'd be pleased as a puffskein if someone asked me about my home. I might just be missin' the place after being gone for so long." Hadley turned to watch Noira converse with Flitwick. He turned back to Snape. "You know, there just might be something else you can do. She looks like a lass that would go for all of that chivalry codswallop. Perhaps holding a few doors open wouldn't be remiss?"

Snape stood still, contemplating Hadley's advice. Hadley clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, whatever you do, you've got a captive audience. Show her Severus instead of Snape. Give it a fair wave of the wand, she'll be alright."

With that, Hadley pulled out his wand and cast _Finite,_ cancelling the _Muffliato_ charm.

As Hadley left the staffroom, he dutifully called back, "So yeah, if that scroll mentioned both Sigel and Ger, I'd definitely wait until June." Good thing he remembered; Snape had completely forgotten that they were supposedly discussing Ancient Runes!

oOoOo

As Hadley walked away, Snape asked himself, _What have I got to lose?_ The response: _My dignity, any chance at Noira,_ _any vestigial illusions I might have had about my nonexistent desirability, any chance at Noira, the ability to look her in the eye, any chance at Noira…_

Snape gave himself a mental slap. He would _not_ travel down that path. He could do this; he had repeatedly faced the Dark Lord and lived to tell the tale, he could surely do something as benign as hold a conversation… with someone who couldn't be counted on to give him the accurate time of day.

He brushed off his robes, hid his emotions behind his normal, impenetrable façade, and walked the few steps back over to where Noira sat. She was still busy with her conversation with Flitwick. As he stepped right up behind her, Noira turned to face him with a smile.

"Severus, did you get whatever help you needed?"

_Oh, that smile…_ Snape wished there was a brew he could bottle that would keep her smiling like that for the rest of her days. Come to think of it, he could sell that brew and be rich.

"…for some reason, every time I turned your way, I heard this strange buzzing sound in my ears…"

Snape shook off his musings and realized that Noira was talking to him. "Hmm…we could swing by the infirmary if you like. Are you sure it has nothing to do with all the firewhisky you've been imbibing?" Of course, he knew exactly what had caused the buzzing.

"And, yes," he continued before she could say something about his comment. "I did get the information I needed. It was very…informative." He risked giving her a slight smile, more a twitch of his lips than anything, and she responded with her own smile growing wider.

Noira stood and finished her conversation with the diminutive Flitwick. As she made her way to the door, Snape took the opportunity to step in front of her, and hold it open as she walked through. As she passed right by him, Snape lightly touched her arm and whispered in her ear, "My lady." He saw shivers go down Noira's spine as his warm breath caressed the shell of her ear, and he could feel her lean into him as he moved away. Ha! She _was_ interested in him!

oOoOo

He led the pair of them back down to Noira's room so they could freshen up for dinner. When they entered her chambers, loud cackles told them that they weren't alone—damn it.

Noira stuck her hand on her hips. "Peeves, what are you still doing here?"

Peeves flew in a cartwheel and corkscrewed across the room. "'Cause Peevesy wanted to, pffffft!"

Snape was not amused. "Peeves, you've been in here long enough. Get out, or I'm calling the Baron."

Peeves began to whinge. "B…b…but I…I wanted t…t…to songy song song song!

"_Peeves,"_ Snape began. Now that he wanted Noira alone, others wouldn't go away.

Noira put her hand on Snape's arm. "No, it is alright, Severus. So Peeves, what song did you want?"

"Teach-a teach-a teach-a teach me!" Peeves bounced through the air with every syllable.

"You want me teach you a song?" Noira was puzzled by his request.

Peeves nodded violently. "I saw some nerdy thirdies making people laugh, and I want to too!"

"Third years were using emotive music? Well, at least I've taught them to counter…" Noira was talking to herself more than anything.

"Emotive music?" Snape questioned.

"Yes," she responded. "That is what I have been teaching in addition to the psalteries. Remember how I can affect emotions with only a simple song?"

"Oh, that's right." Ah, how could Snape forget? It seemed like every time he turned around she had been using it on him.

Noira turned back to Peeves. "Alright, Peeves. I will teach you a song. Will you leave if I do?"

Peeves snapped to attention and saluted in affirmation. Noira paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. Her eyes darted to where Snape stood, and she gave a small smile and a throaty chuckle.

"Now listen carefully, Peeves. I will only sing this once." _And heaven help me if I do so again,_ followed behind unsaid.

"Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak;

Birdie boiler jumpy seat!

Walawala woo, walawala wye,

Bouncy, bouncy, pie pie pie!"

Snape heard her sing that nonsense, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't contain the laughter threatening to escape. He faught, he used Occlumency, but the magic in the music simply took him over. It started first as a snicker, which grew into a chuckle, and then into all out guffaws. It was hilarious! His knees turned to jelly, and he dropped to the floor, still caught in convulsions of laughter. After awhile, he called out, "Oh, my face…it hurts! Ha ha ha! Make it stop!"

Snape wasn't the only one laughing. As soon as he started, Peeves had let loose with his own brand of cackles, rolling around like an ectoplasmic cloud. Noira joined in as well, amazed at the sight of Snape laughing merrily. It was a refreshing sight.

Noira walked over to where Snape was rolling on the ground, and she gave a chirp of surprise when he pulled her down as well. She screamed when Snape began tickling her, and she tried to curl up in a ball to stop him. Of course, this had the opposite effect, as it opened up more spaces for his tactile assault. She wriggled and tried to escape, and Snape retaliated by grabbing her waist, pulling her snug against him.

"Wench!" he said in her ear. "How dare you make me laugh! I am Severus Sullen Humourless Brooding Snape; I do not laugh!"

Noira clasped her arms around the ones he had at her waist, and sank into his embrace. "You forgot dour,"

Snape winced.

"Irascible,"

He winced again.

"Sarcastic,"

Another wince.

"Cruel, and good-looking…oops."

Another… _wait a moment…_He froze as she said that last word. "Really?" He tried to control his voice, but his amazement caused it to come out as a squeak.

Noira looked innocently up at the ceiling. "Did I say that? I must have been thinking of…"

A burst of warmth went through him, and he turned Noira to face him. He looked deep into her golden eyes and saw that she wasn't lying. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and prepared to say something, when he was interrupted by a cackling voice.

"_Snape and Rohal, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes…"_

Snape jerked his head around and glared at the poltergeist. "Peeves, if you dare say one thing about this, I swear explosives will be too good for you, you mangy cur of a…"

"Peeves," Noira said calmly. "Will you tell anyone about this?"

Peeves flew in a loop before answering. "Will the singy-song make _anybody_ laugh?"

Noira sighed as Snape released her. "Yes, Peeves, anybody."

"Even Git?"

"Git? Who is… oh." Noira shot a smiling glance at Snape. "Yes, even 'git.'"

Peeves blew a raspberry as he did a pirouette in the air. "'Oooh…this is better than that song potion-thingy I found on the ground! My lips are sealed." He drew an imaginary zipper across his lips before disappearing with a pop.

"Potion-thingy?" Noira asked. Then it came to her: "A student made up that song!"

"A student!" Snape echoed. "Peeves, come back here! Which student committed that rubbish to paper? Peeves?" It was no use; Peeves was long gone.

"Damn that poltergeist," he said. "I knew he wasn't smart enough to write that refuse; he merely scavenged it."

Snape looked at the clock and noted it was already dinner time. He rose with a sigh and helped Noira to her feet as well. He saw that her vaya had slid off of her shoulder, and on an impulse, decided to fix it. That earned him another smile. For a second, he was afraid it might have earned him a slap. Although he hadn't been paying attention, he remembered her telling him about the entire connotation behind the vaya regarding modesty and forwardness. Now it seemed he had either done the right thing, or Noira wasn't too concerned—he didn't know which situation he preferred.

Feeling significantly more confident with himself, Snape took her arm and led her out the door. As they walked down the hall, Noira stopped to ask him a question.

"So, what was that entire conversation with Hadley about?"

Snape felt a blush creep across his cheeks; he was so happy that his hair was long. "Runes," he answered.

Noira tightened her grip on his arm. "Mmm-hmm, runes. I saw an awful lot of stammering for rune work." She went up on her toes and lightly kissed his cheek. "You are up to something, Severus Snape. I know it." Although what she knew, she never said.

Snape felt that he had found the secret to human levitation, because he was most certainly floating down the hall after her.

oOoOo

A/N: Aw, that was fluffy-luffy! So yeah, there was a Rocky Horror reference, and if you didn't see it, shame on you and go beat yourself with a stick! (What do I need to do, put it in **bold?**)

Many thanks to my beta, Val!

Feel free to email me a review at wathen(underscore)dd(at)yahoo. com


	20. Operation: Nab Noira

A/N: I apologize for taking so long with this chapter. But, we all know how it is…real life gets in the way. I've been out on vacation, but I'm back in town for good. Again, the best way to follow along is through the update alert lists, and I will be posting the next few chapters shortly to make up for my hiatus.

* * *

**Operation: Nab Noira**

They returned from dinner, though Snape never did get to have that conversation he had planned. On the other hand, his shoulders felt significantly lighter now that he knew his affections were returned—or at least he thought they were returned.

It was Snape's night to use his quarters, so they headed down to the dungeons to prepare for bed. That night, a northerly wind had blown through, dropping snow and reducing temperatures drastically. And although the temperature had remained relatively the same in the dungeons, there was still a significant chill to the air.

Noira shivered as she lay in bed. "Goodness, Severus, don't you ever light a fire in this place?"

_No, because then I'm connected to the bloody Floo._

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh and snatched his wand off of the nightstand. Pointing it at the fireplace he mumbled, _"Incendio,"_ followed by a number of wards designed to keep out unwanted intruders. He put his wand back down and turned his head to face her. "Better?"

He could see her pout in the firelight. "A little, but I am still cold." This pronouncement brought on another sigh, and one more dramatic than the first. He heard her snicker in response.

He rolled his eyes and threw out his right arm. "Well, what will we do with you?" He motioned with his hand. "Come on." He smirked when he sensed her indecision. He decided to prod her along in the direction he wanted. First checking that his nightshirt was all the way down, he began to roll so he faced away from her. "Right then, I'll just keep to myself over here. You know, I can actually feel the heat off the fire from here…"

Two seconds later, he felt her shifting over to huddle against him. Snape gave a wry grin when he knew she couldn't see it. It seemed he had found her weak point—simply threaten her with cold, and she'd be putty in his hands. He shifted so she could curl against him. _Hmm,_ he thought. _I've never slept so much with a woman without sleeping with her…not that I've done much of either…okay, **none** of either…confound it all. _He raised his head to get a good look at Noira where she lay at his side. _Better enjoy this while it lasts._ With that, he contentedly closed his eyes.

"Gods! Your hands are cold!" He jerked away from her when he felt her icy hands through his nightshirt. "You control fire, why don't you use some to warm yourself?"

He jumped again when he felt her cold feet on his legs. "But Severus," she asked innocently. "Why would I use all that energy when you could do it for me?"

_'Why would I use all that energy when you could do it for me?'…bugger her._ "That's it," he sneered and shoved her away. "Back to your side of the bed; I can tell when I'm being used."

How he hated being used; it seemed that that was his entire lot in life, and he'd be damned if he let her get away with it too. "Next time you'll just have to expend that extra ounce of energy yourself…_using me to do everyone's work for them…"_ He mumbled the last part to himself.

She scooted away from him and stiffly turned away. "Fine."

Snape lay there and thought about what just happened. _Why didn't I just let things be? I was holding her, damn it! Yes, her hands were cold, but I was holding her, damn it!_ Snape turned his head to see her. Oh, the curve of her waist and backside looked so enticing in the firelight.

He sneered that thought away. _She's using me…they all use me. _Everyone always had an ulterior motive to their interactions with him…even Noira. _But, she never has before…maybe that wasn't what she meant. _He turned his head to look at her. _No, perhaps she was…joking with me. _

That was a foreign concept to Severus Snape. People always laughed _at_ him, and not _with _him.

He sighed and turned back to her. "Noira…"

She ignored him, and pulled the blankets more tightly around herself.

"Noira, I…" He bit his tongue as he tried to force the words out. "I _apologize_ for my reaction earlier…I may have overreacted a bit."

She responded with one word, "Understatement."

He winced and forced himself to continue. "It's just that I tend to…_Oh bugger._" He decided that showing her he was sorry might be easier than telling her.

He scooted close enough to her that she could not ignore him.

"Noira?" he tried again. Reaching out, he tried to skim her back with his fingertips. He found her body, and he softly rubbed her where he had touched her.

"Get your hand off of my arse."

Oops.

_But it's such a nice arse…_ Removing the offending member, he scooted closer and spooned up against her. He revelled in the fact that she had not pushed him away. "Noira, I'm sorry…I just…"

She turned in his arms, and he could barely see her expression with the firelight. She was smiling lightly. "I understand, Severus. I didn't mean to offend you, either. Perhaps we should learn to listen to more than just what the other person is saying?"

He thought that over. "Perhaps."

Noira snuggled against his side, and he proceeded to stroke her hair until he was sure she had fallen asleep. _I don't deserve her…_ He raised his head and kissed her gently on the forehead. Finally content, he drifted off into a blessedly dream-free sleep.

oOoOo

The next morning, they made their way down to breakfast. Following the advice he had reluctantly taken, Snape pulled out Noira's chair so she could sit down. Pushing the chair back in, he sat down in his own chair and reached for the toast.

Strange, there was a note stuck on top of the toast. Snape opened the parchment and read what was inside.

_How goes ONN/TURN-ON?_

_Bloody hell…_ Snape crumpled up the note and stood up from the table.

"What is it, Severus?" he heard Noira ask.

He ignored her and glared at Hadley, noting how the interfering Aussie looked in every direction but his…while _whistling. _Someone was going to get hexed.

Snape stalked over in Hadley's direction. How dare he have the audacity to basically air his affairs in public? He was going …_Oh shite, too far. _

**_CRASH! _**

Snape was magically launched backwards through the air, where he landed in a tangled pile of himself, a chair, porridge, and Noira.

He heard Noira moan from somewhere underneath him and his robes. "One day left. There is only one _kazis_ day left…"

The students burst out with tittering and snickers just as the nearest staff inundated them with comments.

"Severus, are you and Noira alright?" Minerva asked with concern.

Flitwick craned his neck in vain to see around Umbridge. "What happened?"

"What was that note about?" asked Vector.

Hooch leaned back in her chair. "Oh, looks like that hurt."

"You didn't break the chair, did you?" That comment was from Filch.

Snape had had enough. He stood abruptly, righted the chair, and gave every last student the Shut-up-or-so-help-me-you-will-be-in-detention-until-the-day-you-die glare, effectively quelling their outburst. He launched the same glare—modified—at the teachers, and they reluctantly sat back down.

Kneeling back down, he finally got a good look at Noira's condition. He snorted and then quickly changed it into a cough when he heard her give a feral growl. Snape Flambé did not need to be a breakfast item.

Noira lay on her back, with her bowl of porridge sitting like a hat on top of her head. The white porridge dribbled down her face, over her hair, on her clothes, and down to the floor.

Snape moved to remove the bowl from her head, but Noira shifted before he could. The bowl clattered to the ground, but not without leaving a final dollop of porridge on her nose.

Noira wiped ineffectively at the mess on her face, and growled when she only managed to smear it more. Snape caught her hands to stop her from wiping. Pulling out his wand, he tapped it on the tip of her nose. _"Scourgify." _The porridge was banished from her face, and he proceeded to do the same for her clothes and hair.

When he touched her scalp, however, he heard her hiss in pain. She clutched her head and refused to let him touch it.

"Um, Severus?" he heard Sprout say. "Perhaps you should take her to the infirmary."

Snape gently removed her hands and proceeded to inspect her scalp. _Yes, that definitely will bruise,_ he thought. He could already feel the bump starting to form.

He spared a glance at Sprout and sneered. "Or perhaps I will simply deal with it myself. As long as I am bound to her, it seems sensible for me to watch over my parasite."

"Parasite? Surely she's not that bad, though I bet you can imagine her sucking on to you like a giant leech," Hadley said, as he leaned back to see what had happened.

A flush spread through Snape's face before quickly retreating. _By the Serpent, if he doesn't shut his mouth…_

Snape looked up and noted that Hadley looked inordinately pleased with himself at that statement. Hadley would soon see how pleasing it was to have Bubotuber puss in his shoes and Bulbadox powder in his sheets, by the time Snape got through with him.

"For goodness sake, Severus," Hadley said. "Give the lady a hand."

_As soon as you leave your interfering nose out of my business. Why did I turn to you for advice? Oh, that's right—because you're my only friend, of course, though I regret that now..._

Turning back to Noira's bruise, he noticed there was something not quite right with her hair. In fact, what he saw didn't even count as hair. Right below her bruise was a single scarlet plume, and he was consumed with the urge to find out more about it. Looking around, he noted that no one was watching him. Snape grasped the feather by its base and yanked it free. He heard her yelp and quickly stuffed the feather into a pocket in his robes.

"Didn't mean to poke you," he murmured.

Snape pulled out his wand and placed it against the bump on her head. He whispered a charm and the bruise began to heal.

He helped her wobble to her feet. "Does anything else hurt?" he asked.

Noira shook her head to clear it of its cobwebs. "No, just my pride."

Snape pulled out her chair so she could sit back down. As she sat, he shot Hadley a dark look. _"This is your fault,"_ he mouthed silently.

Hadley just slapped his knee and laughed.

oOoOo

Snape continued with ONN/TURN-ON, though he refused to call it that, c_urse Hadley._ He preferred the moniker of…Ensuring That Noira Returns My Delusional Affections, Damn Her—which spelled out not a damn thing, thank you very much. Of course, that was a mouthful to repeat, so the old name would remain, even if Snape would rather mock a hippogriff to its face than say it.

As they went about their day, Snape opened every door, kept dunderheads out of her way, and snarled in that protective way that only Snape could make endearing, yet it all seemed to have no effect.

In fact, the more he did, the more wary of him Noira became.

The second time he had held open a door for her, he had been rewarded by a bewildered stare. When he offered to carry—by hand—the supplies Noira had needed for one of her classes, Noira had looked at him with concern like he had been the one hit in the head instead of her. When he had offered to help her with some of her paperwork, Noira became downright alarmed.

Eventually, the school day ended, and they went to work and relax in their joint office. It was now office hours, and they had to sit in there in case any students needed to see them. Snape would have placed a Disillusionment Charm on the door as he usually did, but he had a feeling Noira would have removed it. She always had to be nice to the dunderheads, he noted. Oh well, he doubted any student was foolish enough to seek him out, although they might come for Noira. In that case, he'd soon send them packing in the other direction.

Snape sat down and pulled out the stack of fifth year essays he had been grading earlier.

Noira had pulled her violin out and was busy polishing and tuning it. As she ran a cloth over its now-gleaming surface, she turned to Snape.

"So, what are you up to?"

Snape's quill paused in the middle of grading some of _her_ parchments. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said calmly.

"Mmm, of course you do not." Nora put down the cloth and began turning the violin's pegs and plucking the strings. "So, what are you up to?"

_Blast._ He tried to distract her. "How is it you manage to tune your violin without any pitches to refer to?"

Noira stopped tweaking the pegs. "Absolute pitch," she answered. "Do not try to distract me. Why are you being so solicitous all of a sudden?"

He put down his quill and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He began to dissemble. "I felt that our petty rivalry was counterproductive to the current state of affairs…and that it would be best to reach an accord of sorts."

"An accord of sorts?" Noira merely chuckled like she knew something he didn't, and lifted the violin to her shoulder. As she began to play, Snape's eyes widened in shock as his body throbbed with desire.

_Oh Euterpe's lyre, not that song, anything but that song. She's playing the bloody tango again…_He put his head in his hands and watched her through the corner of his eyes. _I swear I am going to throw her over the desk and…stop it, gods-be-damned, stop the bloody music!_ He gripped his hair and resisted the urge to pull it out._ Why is she playing that horrid, lovely, demon of a song? _

The melody changed. He slowly lifted his head and looked straight at her. _Wait… I'm going to pour out my black little heart at her feet, and share with her the dreams and fears that have been filling my nights and days. I'll tell her the secret that lies close to my unworthy heart; it's all I've ever wanted to do._ He heard a niggling of dissent in the back of his mind.

**_Pull yourself together! You will not tell her a thing._ **_But she deserves to know. **No, she doesn't. She's compelling you. **Is she? But the music's so lovely. **Compelling…**_

Noira watched Snape go through several emotions as she played. Desire came first, which was followed swiftly by what could only be described as tenderness, and now he looked like he was fighting an internal battle. She began to play with more feeling, wanting him to tell her the truth.

"What are you up to?"

Snape had no defence against her music, so he tried the first thing that came to mind. _Occlumency, Occlumency…wall, wall, wall, wall! Build the bloody wall! _Snape began to sweat as he was assaulted by her song. "N…nothing," he mumbled.

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing." He clutched the desk until his knuckles turned white.

"Of course, what are you hiding from me?"

_Wall…crumbling…falling…_He could feel his resistance melt as she played on. "It's a secret," he whispered. He tried to look away, but the music compelled him to focus on her and her glowing eyes.

"Mmm. A secret, is it? So share it with me."

"I don't want to," he hissed.

"But you will anyway, will you not?"

"Yesss…" he said through clenched teeth. He tried to hold back, but the music was too insistent, like the strongest Imperius—and _that_ he could resist.

"So, what is it?" he heard her ask.

"I…thinkImightfancyyou," he mumbled, still fighting hard to defy the music.

"I'm sorry?"

His wall finally crumbled into dust. "I fancy you." Snape froze and flushed red, mortified that she had forced him to make that confession.

Noira abruptly stopped playing, and put the violin and bow down at her side. She stood and surprised Snape by pushing back his chair and jumping like a kitten into his lap.

Snape felt his mouth go dry and his palms begin to sweat as she stared into his eyes. The urge to shove her away battled with the urge to snog her senseless. Noira leaned forward to whisper enticingly in his ear, "I think I might fancy you too." Then she giggled impishly.

He released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding, and slumped into his chair. Noira took this as an invitation to make herself comfortable. She now sat across his lap, both of her legs hung over the left side of the chair. She put her arms around his neck, entwining them in his hair. Snape's arm crept up, and one hand insinuated itself on the small of her back, and the other to a perch on her lower thigh. He felt a thrill go through him at her confession. _She's touching my hair…_

Noira pressed her forehead against Snape's and whispered, "See how easy it was to just come out and say it? I believe we already had this conversation about asking for what you want." She tapped her chin thoughtfully and gave a light laugh. "Besides, it is not like I did not already know, since Professor Strait-laced Snape had his hand on my bum last night."

Snape pulled back, incredulous. "Gods, not even the Dark Lord's interrogations are that hard to resist."

That earned a laugh from her. "My arse or my music?"

_Both, you damn succubus. _"Annoying chit," he mumbled.

"Cagey bat," she retorted.

The Voice of Dissent raged back into his mind. **_She forced you to tell her! She's tricky and false…how dare she invade your mind! _**_That's right, she did…_

He stood suddenly, dumping her on the floor and knocking over his chair. "How dare you mess with my mind like that? Forcing me to say things that are clearly none of your business and interfering with the most…"

She just lay where she fell, and laughed out loud.

"What is it?" he snapped.

Noira looked up at Snape with amusement in her eyes. "That's right, Severus. It's none of my business if you like me… I mean, it is only _me_ you like. Heaven forbid if I should return feelings of the same."

He stood over her, arms crossed defensively. "True as that may be, I still do not appreciate you artificially influencing my psyche," he scowled at her.

Noira sat up. "I apologize, in that case." She smiled. "It is just…we are usually more straightforward about our affections. It is only the way we are; I only wanted to nudge you along."

Snape narrowed his eyes and knelt down so he was closer to her. Noira reached up to stroke his face, and he tried to ignore the gentleness in her touch.

"Why should I believe you?" he whispered dangerously. "If this is another joke on me, I'll…"

Noira moved her fingers to his lips; she could feel his warm breath wash over them. "Shh…what would it take for you to believe me?" she whispered back.

Quick as lightning, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her up so they were eyelevel with one another. Snape whipped out his wand with his other hand, and pressed it to her temple.

_"Legilemens." _He put all the force of his desire behind that spell.

Surprisingly, he broke through her barriers. Flashes of what appeared to be gold and crimson plumes raced through his mind. He heard a voice singing…the call of a bird... It felt like there were two beings vying for dominance of one mind. One felt primal, instinctive, and he was hit by every strong urge she had ever felt. He was bombarded by hate, fear, lust, hope, and love. The feelings overwhelmed him, and he pulled back. He never noticed that she had fallen limp in his arms. He searched elsewhere and found her control, the rational being. He sorted through her memories and saw flashing blades…a forest…running, jumping… Then he saw himself through her eyes.

He saw himself with a slight smile, watching her, and he noticed that he looked almost pleasant. He wasn't handsome in any sense of the word, not with his hair lank, his skin pallid, and his nose crooked, but somehow she found him attractive. He didn't understand it. He saw himself holding her close during the night, and he saw how safe she felt, how content she was. He came across the memory of the two of them in Diagon Alley. She had sat in his lap and kissed him until he was sure their lips had bruised. He could feel, nearly taste, her potent desire for him.

At that moment, a little of his doubtful mind was freed and the veneer of ice surrounding his cold heart began to chip off and melt away.

_She wants me? I don't deserve her, but I will show myself worth of her._ He thanked the gods with a silent supplication

**_Mine! _**his internal voice said.It seemed that that voice had more personalities than his double agent status. First, it had declared hatred, and now it was all for keeping her forever. Stunned, he pulled out of her mind and held her body close to him.

He whispered in her ear, "I believe you. How do I deserve this from you?" He kissed her jaw and pulled her unresisting body closer. He stroked her hair…then he realized something was not quite right.

"Noira? Noira?" She didn't answer him. He pulled back from her and gaped when her head lolled back. In shock, he dropped her and she landed with a dull thud on the stones.

He knelt over her. Her eyes were open, blank, and unblinking, and a thin trickle of blood dripped out of her nose.

_Oh Merlin, what did I do to her? I've never made it into her mind before…she shouldn't have reacted that way, regardless. Why did she pass out? Did I do permanent damage?_

Then a new though entered his mind.

_Merlin's hoary beard, I've killed her._

* * *

A/N: cough...evil...I know. 


	21. Trying Not to Get Slapped

Disclaimer: I am not, never claimed to be, and never will be a poet. Just thought I'd mention that. All Harry Potter related characters, plot, and objects are not mine, and never will be. Go see the Prologue.

**A/N:** (Sniff) Smell that? That's the scent of freshly beta'd fic. Gotta love it in the mornings. There's a slight warning for questionable consent, but you'll recognize it when you see it. There's also some Snape-teasing. Don't complain; you know you like it.

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* * *

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**Trying Not to Get Slapped**

_Then a new though entered his mind. _

_Merlin's hoary beard, I've killed her._

oOoOo

All traces of a sneer were gone from his face, and he was seconds away from full-blown panic. "Oh Severus, now you've **really** done it," he whispered angrily with a hint of fear.

He took her limp hand and pressed it against his thin lips, staring at her unmoving form with wide eyes. He toyed with the ring that adorned her finger.

Snape stared at her blankly before yelling out, "I am a gods-forsaken fool! Why did I need proof? Why didn't I believe you?"

Gathering Noira up into his arms, he held her still-warm form against his chest and he cursed his brashness and stupidity. _I kill everything I touch…and I had just started to feel…to understand her, to realize there was something palpable between us that could have grown…and I've fucking killed her._

He held her, and thousands of thought continued to whirl through his mind. _What do I do? What have I done? How could I have hurt her so with one spell? She's a fey, nearly immortal, powerful…and I've torn her mind apart like an old parchment. _

He lifted his head when he felt something stir in his arms.

It was Noira awakening from her faint. _She's alive! She's alive!_ He sat up and caressed her face as she looked up at him, blinking confusedly. "Severus," she mumbled. "What happened? My mind felt…"

_Oh shite, she knows._

In a panic, he pulled out his wand and Stupefied her before she could say more.

"Gods, what do I do with her now?" he questioned out loud. He wasn't sure if he had left her with permanent damage—Legilimency could resemble a botched Obliviate if pushed too far—but he couldn't take her to anyone for help. He couldn't take her to the infirmary; Madame Pomfrey would ask too many questions and possibly figure out that Noira wasn't exactly human. Dumbledore would ask just as many questions, he would definitely find out that her state was his fault, so Snape couldn't take her to him. Besides, Dumbledore might tell the Tha'abas, and then Snape would have his head handed back to him on a silver platter.

Snape whipped off his professorial robes, and remained in his trousers and shirtsleeves. He took the robes and laid them upon the ground and bundled Noira up in them like they were a blanket. He picked her up and carried her to the fireplace. He was surprised at how unnaturally light she was. _Where to take her…where to take her?_ Deciding, he shifted her body and reached for the Floo powder.

"Noira Rohal's quarters," he called out. He stepped into the green flames and felt himself swirl through the Floo system. Reaching her quarters, he stepped out, only to be thrown into her spell barriers.

_"For the love of…"_ He hit the barrier, and was thrown backwards back into the Floo system. Staggering out of the hearth, he stumbled and swore when he realized he was back in the same office. Nearly falling, he caught himself before he dropped Noira, and reached again for the jar of Floo powder. He tossed it into the fire and headed into his own rooms.

"Deka!" he called out.

A house elf popped into view. "Yes, Professor Snape."

Snape shifted Noira's weight and carried her to his bedroom. He called back over his shoulder, "Get an Invigoration Draught and a Calming Draught from my stores. Touch nothing else."

Deka was the only elf Snape ever allowed in his rooms, purely because he touched nothing unless told to, left his experiments alone, and remained silent about anything he saw. Hopefully, the elf would remain silent about this as well.

Snape kicked the door open to his bedroom, and laid her down on the bed. After a split-second's hesitation, he decided to remove her boots and her vaya. He placed those items on a nearby chair.

Deka popped into the room. "Here is the potions Professor wanted."

Snape took the potions and checked the labels and the contents to make sure they were the right ones; they were. He turned back to the house elf. "I trust none of this shall be repeated to anyone?"

Deka bobbed his head rapidly. "Yes, Professor Snape. Deka is keeping all of Professor's secrets." And with that, the house elf popped away.

Snape sat next to her on the bed, and he placed the bottles of potion on the nightstand next to them. He pushed her hair back from her face, and propped the pillows up. _Oh Merlin, I hope she doesn't remember much._ Pulling out his wand, he whispered, _"Enervate." _

Noira sat up with a start and winced. "_Bodais, santaniat ko' nir mon srishio."_

"What?" He hoped she was fine.

She rubbed her fingertips against her temples. "I said, 'I feel like my mind has been scrambled.'"

Snape summoned a damp towel from the bathroom and used it to wipe the blood off of her face. "Are you alright?" he asked, handing her the potions.

She took the potions and downed them with a grimace. "Wh…what happened?" She lay back down and Snape dropped the towel and started stroking her face. He took the phials from her and placed them back on the table.

He moved his hands to the top of her head before he answered her, and he began to massage her scalp through her hair, under the pretence of checking for further injury. He heard her sigh in relaxed contentment, and then he finally answered her. "We were in our office, and you passed out. Perhaps it was due to your injury this morning?" he said silkily, trying to convince her that this was so.

Noira looked confused at his answer. "That sounds vaguely plausible…but I remember asking you a question…then you said 'Legilimens.' What does that mean?"

**_Warning! _**The voice was back. He had to change the topic, and in a hurry. How could he distract her?

"Then I felt as if someone was cataloguing my thoughts," she continued. "I could see pictures of—"

Snape cut her off in much the same way she had done to him before—he took her mouth in a forceful kiss.

She jerked in surprise and his crooked nose ran into hers. Snape winced and shushed her involuntary whimper, holding her head in both hands. Snape tilted his head and held her head firmly in place, muffling her second squeal of surprise with his lips. He could feel the vibrations from her cry against his lips, and the sound drove him onward. He felt her hands scrabble over his back, before finally relaxing and accepting his touch. He urged her to open her mouth using light sweeps of his tongue against her lips. He could feel their feathery texture, and when her lips finally parted, he could taste remnants of the potions he had given her.

He felt her breathing quicken, and he felt her strain against the hold of his hands. She whimpered, and he released her head to hold her against him properly.

He adjusted his position and pushed Noira down against the bed. He grew bold with his touch and moved to fondle her breasts with one of his hands.

That was when she shoved him away.

"Bastard, get off of me!" Noira snarled at him.

She was angry, and rightly so. Snape saw her eyes glare at him and her lip curl in a way that revealed her fangs. She was breathing heavily, and he found her completely magnificent. When her eyes flashed with fire, he knew she would be alright, _thank the gods._

Ignoring her ire, he swooped back in for another kiss. _Mine, mine, mine!_ his mind yelled with glee, and for once, he agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment. He pushed her back down and pinned her with his body.

"I'll have you know that my parents were married," he growled in her ear. "And for your information, you had appeared ill, and I was merely checking on your health when you fainted."

Or not. Liar.

He ran a long finger down her neck and over her collarbone; she shivered in response and tried to keep up her glare as she growled at him. He continued, "And I was simply ecstatic over your vigorous return to health, so I simply could not contain myself. I apologize for my exuberance," he whispered smoothly, and ran his tongue around her ear.

Noira rolled her eyes. "Now you're being sarcastic. Get off; you are heavy."

Snape didn't budge an inch. He ignored her second comment and concentrated on the first. "What was your first clue?"

"The fact that it came from your mouth. Move."

Snape smirked and rolled off of her. "It seems you do have a modicum of sense in you."

"Ha, very funny. And my lips and breasts hold my vital signs, Professor Checking-if-I'm-Alright; you just needed a reason to touch me."

_So would any other red-blooded male._ Snape inclined his head in a mock bow. "You know me too well."

Snape rose and helped Noira to her feet. As he turned away, Noira slapped him—hard. They both hissed at the stinging pain—she had forgotten about that part of their bondage.

Snape faced her and whispered waspishly, "What was that for?"

Noira pointed a finger in his face and narrowed her eyes. "I know you did something to me earlier, Severus Snape." She rose on her tiptoes until they were nearly level. "I can see your magical residue on me. Also, I did not appreciate your groping." She paused to adjust her bodice. "These are attached, you know."

_Note to self: be less forceful with the… _

She interrupted his thought with the unexpected; she pulled his head to hers and kissed him soundly before pulling swiftly away. "And before you ask," she said. "That was because I could. However, do not push your luck."

She turned away and waited for him to follow. "Come, it must be nearly dinnertime."

Snape was flummoxed by her sudden shift in mood; he felt like he had been kicked by a Bewilderbeast. He shook his head and followed her, after putting on his robes. _A feisty one—_at least he would never be bored.

oOoOo

Snape had a difficult time sitting through dinner. For some reason, he kept…_smiling_, which surely had to be against the law somewhere. For all he knew, it was probably posted on Filch's door.

Realizing the abomination on his face, he quickly changed it into a sneer when Noira looked his way.

"What?" she asked upon seeing him sneer. He merely glanced in the direction of the student body.

"Oh." Noira paused to dab her mouth with her napkin. "They are being a bit louder than usual."

_Whew…_Snape released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. _That was close._ It wouldn't do for Noira to realize how tightly he was already wound around her little finger; he would surely be at a disadvantage if she found out.

Snape returned his attention to his chicken and ham pie. As he took a bite, he watched Noira out of the corner of his eye. He still couldn't believe his idiocy from earlier. What if he had actually hurt her? What if he _did_ hurt her? Why did he have to go and pull that foolish stunt? He should have known better than to delve into her mind. Her mind was foreign and complex; if he hadn't of known better, he would have sworn he was using Legilimency on two people at once—a preposterous notion at best. He knew there had to be a logical explanation somewhere, but whatever it was, the knowledge was currently beyond his reach.

He put down his fork and took a sip from his goblet, barely tasting the nettle wine as it poured over his tongue. _Why do things have to be so complicated?_ He didn't know how to share his _feelings_—anaemic as they were—the scene on his bed was more than enough testament to that fact…even if it had been more of a distraction tactic than anything else. He simply never had a chance to have a relationship like that. _After all_, he thought sarcastically to himself, _being a Death Eater/Greasy Git/Spy/Lonely Bat/Professor/Surly Bastard isn't exactly conducive to having a love life._

But now it seemed that his wretched life was taking a turn for the better. He watched Noira once more out of the corner of his eye, and noted how she brought about a host of conflicting reactions within himself. Snape snorted as he thought this over. When he didn't want to hex her—or wasn't acting like a complete fool around her, for that matter—he actually found her quite…amicable. _As evidenced by my forced confession earlier…argh._ He was still mad at her for that, though he supposed he should forgive her since he invaded her mind as well, and_…_nearly killed her in the process. Who was he kidding? He couldn't even remain mad at her. Curse her for getting under his skin! He had grown to care for her, deeply care for her, and it terrified him. He had known her for several months now, and he already couldn't imagine how things would be without her…_Like an enamoured fool,_ he thought. He had never had a need for such frivolous attachments; in fact, he abhorred them. Yet here he was, seeking one out. The thorn in his side had grown into a rose, and he was wary of cutting off the flower before it could fully bloom.

_Heh,_ who was he kidding? He was doomed.

Snape hung his head and put down his goblet. He began to rub his temples, and started when he felt Noira lightly touch his arm.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Why?"

"You seem more pensive than usual. And yes," she continued before he could respond, "I know that describing you as pensive is an exercise in redundancy."

That comment earned her a smirk. Since no one was watching him, he allowed himself the luxury of trailing a finger caressingly over her forearm.

Snape decided to change the subject. He inclined his head towards the Gryffindor table. "Watch this," he told her.

"Watch what?" she asked? Sitting up straighter, Noira followed his gaze to the front of the Gryffindor table, to where the Golden Trio sat. "What are you going to do?"

"Just watch." He glared at the back of Harry's head and began counting softly out loud.

"Three…two…one."

They saw Harry jerk his head around as if he had been burned. Harry glanced around the Hall, and then at the Head Table, before rubbing his scar and turning back to his friends.

"What was that?" Noira asked him.

He simply told her to watch him again. "Three…two…one…" and Harry jerked around in seat. Noira stifled a giggle of amusement.

"That is horrible, though you do have a glare that can kill from a hundred paces, no?" she commented with humour in her voice. Noira took another bite of her sprouts before putting down her fork and dabbing her mouth with her napkin. She turned back to Snape. "I know this is terrible of me, but…do it again."

Snape arched an eyebrow amusedly in her direction; he was surprised that she thought it was funny. He would have expected the opposite. In fact, it _should have_ been the opposite. "As my lady commands," he said.

Glaring once more at the back of Harry's head, he had just enough time to see Harry start before he was slapped on the arm.

"Severus," scolded McGonagall. "Stop harassing the child. You give him enough grief in your classes, and don't _even _try to deny it."

He rubbed his arm and smirked at McGonagall. "Come now, Minerva. He's the 'Boy Who Lived; surely your cub can handle a glare or two?" _Or three…_

McGonagall narrowed her eyes like the lioness Snape compared her to. At the pinched expression on McGonagall's face, Noira had to bite her lips to keep from laughing out loud.

Once McGonagall had turned back to her conversation with Grubbly-Plank, Noira felt free to begin conversing with Snape once more. "So," she murmured. "How do you do it?—simply out of curiosity, of course."

Snape sat back in his chair. "Truthfully, only the gods may know. I do, however, know that I can trace back this 'gift' to the time Quirrell was here."

"Quirrell?" she asked.

"Yes, he was the…ah, Defence instructor four years ago." He sneered before giving a wry smirk. "He suffered from the rather nasty affliction of having the Dark Lord living on the back of his skull."

Noira looked upon him with disgust. "No…is that possible?"

McGonagall joined their conversation once more. "Och, it was a terrible thing. You never would have suspected Quirinus of such duplicity. He was always such a quiet young man."

Snape looked upon her with distaste. "Really Minerva, you never saw it coming, even though he, the troll expert, fainted at the sight of one? And that as the Defence instructor, he couldn't even defend against a wayward grindylow? After all, 'who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"'" he quoted from the Pensieve he had seen. He resisted the urge to sneer (at least to her face).

Turning to Noira, he asked her if she was through yet. When she responded in the affirmative, he preceded her out of the Great Hall.

oOoOo

They returned from dinner and sat quietly in Noira's rooms. Snape had claimed the couch as his own personal domain, so Noira sat in a nearby armchair, cleaning her swords. Snape tapped his fingers against the spine of the Book of Fae. His mind was still on the same path it had been on at dinner, and he was nervous—scratch that—he was Cornered by a Hungarian Horntail Nervous.

He was currently far, far out of his comfort zone, and he had no idea what to do next. He was rapidly falling over a broomstick for her, and he'd be damned if he messed this one up.

Snape put down his book and watched Noira, mesmerized, as she ran a soft cloth over the sword cradled in her lap. She stroked up the blade slowly, thoroughly, and then circled around the pointed tip with her thumb, then back down the other side of the sword. The tip of her tongue was poking out of her mouth in concentration, and every once in a while she'd lick her lips as she started another stroke. She put aside the cloth and picked up a fresh one. Grabbing the bottle of clove oil that she had at her side, she lifted the bottle and drizzled oil all over and down the sides of the blade.

Snape stifled a groan when she began to rub in the oil, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He enjoyed the spectacle for a few minutes, imagining what it would be like to be that blade, until he belatedly realized that his breathing had sped up to match the rhythm of her stroking.

He knew he had to do something, as the torment was becoming nearly unbearable; but what was he to do? Or rather, what could he do without getting himself slapped?

He felt that the room had become unbearably hot, and he pulled the collar of his robes away from his neck. Snape shifted again in his seat, and waited for Noira to finish. _Kill me now… Merlin, end my suffering. _

She leaned over to put down her swords, and Snape decided to make his move.

He cleared his throat. "Would you like to sit next to me, Noira?" _Owl of Pallas… _That was the best his mind could come up with? Then again, he realized, most of the blood he needed for thinking had migrated south. He felt the beginnings of a blush flush across his face; good thing Noira was looking the other way. He could read his epitaph now: 'Here lies Severus Snape: died from mortification after being reduced to the suavity of a lovesick fool.'

Noira looked up and smiled at him. "I would like that." Snape moved his book aside, and scooted over so she could sit down. She sat and looked at him expectantly, and he was sure there was also a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Snape just sat there. _Alright, so I have her attention, now what do I do?_

He made to reach for her hand, but stopped himself. Would she welcome his touch?

The annoying Voice of Reason crept back into his mind. **_Have the cauldron fumes addled your brain? She let you touch her not even an hour ago. In fact, you were lying on top of her, idiot. _**_But, she slapped me. **Because you went all **_**Gryffindor_ on her, plunging right on in without thinking about the outcome. What kind of Slytherin are you? Woo her; get what you want._** _But, I just can't reach out without preamble and grab her hand…can I? **Yes, you can. Do it already…or are you a coward? **_

****

Alright, this inner voice was really starting to pique his last nerve. _I am not A COWARD**! So do it already…Coward. **But…_** _Do it…_**_Oh, alright_

He ignored what the voice had said, and went for another approach. _Perhaps a simple conversation would be the best way to approach this. Yes, that sounds quite plausible…it was Hadley's advice, after all. We haven't really talked much…_

"Noira," he began, "Would you like to visit the Astronomy Tower with me tonight? I overheard Sinistra saying that the stars are supposed to be exceptional…" He dropped off in absolute mortification. The _Astronomy__ Tower_ What the bloody hell was he thinking? He could have pounded his head against a wall in shame. He sounded like a dunderheaded, hormonal sixth year… Astronomy Tower, indeed.

He continued to mentally berate himself; his mind pointed out that the Tower was probably already occupied…by said hormonal sixth years, and that was enough to cool anyone's ardour. Besides, he was a professor. While the opportunity for dealing out detention would have been wonderful—and he'd just gotten in a barrel of horned toads that he needed livers removed from—he wasn't sure he wanted to face the whispers of the student body (alright, _more_ whispers) if he was seen up there with Noira. After all, the students would assume that he was there for the same reason they were…even though he sort of would have been, damn it.

A sudden bolt of inspiration hit him; what if he changed the subject before she had a chance to answer?

"I'm sorry?" Oh! Did Noira even hear him?

Now was his chance. "_Ahem,_ So, tell me about your home." That's what he had meant to say—_right._

"My home?" she asked. "What would you like to know?"

Severus relaxed his posture and slung his arm on the back of the couch in an attempt to appear inviting—not that it did much. That move had never worked for him before; why should he expect it to now? "Whatever you want to tell me. What you miss, what you'd be doing right now."

"Hmm," she leaned back and he felt a thrill when she rested her head in the crook of his arm. _It worked! It worked!_ sang through his mind. "There is one thing I miss. There is nothing like seeing the sun set behind the Western Mountains."

"Tell me about it." Severus shifted his arm so he cradled her shoulders. He had to fight off a triumphant grin when she did not turn away, but actually leaned against him. _I am the most pathetic creature in existence_.

"If only I could show you, but this will have to be enough." Noira raised her arms and began to weave an enchantment. "There."

The undiluted hues of a vibrant sunset splashed against every wall. Every surface became coloured with the brightest reds, the purest yellows, orange of every type, and beyond that, a violet studded with silver points. "The air is so pure there, the colours seem to go on forever, never fading until the sun disappears behind the mountains. The colours are so renowned that they have been the subject of many poems:

"When the day has ended,

Look to that yonder hill;

There the painter hath laid down his brush.

"Yellows and gold and red

Of ev'ry hue will mill

To the sound of the evening thrush.

"And when the sun finally plunges past the peak of the mountains, the valley is thrust into a beautiful darkness. The fires on the hillside twinkle almost as brightly as the stars that dance above them; it is a blessed sight."

As Severus listened to her, he found himself drawn into every word she spoke, every picture she conjured. For a moment he felt at peace, and he wished…but it would never be. He had to content himself with only imagining the sights she described as the night went on.

She told him of the forests around her home, how the Tirnai were one with the nature surrounding them. He could taste the excitement in her voice as she described climbing the tallest trees to ride out rain storms, how the heat would dissipate and the wind whip, and how the earth would be renewed by water as precious as tears. He could smell the scent of the rain-washed pine, feel the dewy drops on his skin, and hear the chatter of the forest as its inhabitants crept from their holes. He longed to have such peace, such ease in his life.

"Come with me to the forest."

"Hmm?" The scene she described was so wonderful that he did not want to leave it and return to harsh reality.

She turned to face him and put her hand on his chest. Impulsively, he snatched her hand in his and placed a kiss on her warm palm. She giggled at his gallant impulse, and this time he didn't mind her laughing at him. His breath hitched when she ran her fingertips over his thin lips, teasing and pulling lightly at them. He looked into her golden eyes, and was trapped by the fire blazing there. He wanted to drown in their light, burn in their laughter, and freeze in their fiery heat. Buckbeak could have charged through the room and he never would have noticed. He had forgotten to release her hand; it was all he could do to continue placing reverent kisses against her fingertips.

"Severus," she crooned. "Come with me to the forest."

He was so enamoured, he would have followed her anywhere, glamours be damned. Hell, he would have followed her home like a lost Crup pup.

She pulled her hand away from his mouth and took his hand in hers. He felt her begin to pull away, and self-doubt set in like a rampaging troll—in complete contradiction to everything that had just transpired. _What's going on? Did I go too far? Did I push her too fast? Did I mistake her intentions? Of course I did, I'm such an idiot. No one would want me, the 'black-hearted bat_ _of the dungeons,' I…_

_Um…Never mind. _

She had pulled away only to kiss him soundly before pulling him to his feet.

Completely off-centred, he allowed himself to be led out onto the grounds and to the Forbidden Forest, never mind the fact that it was night, and a dark, gloomy, _dangerous_ forest. Did he mention it was night? And cold?

But did Severus Snape care? Indeed not.

He had been completely twitterpated and it wasn't even springtime.

(Not to mention that the blood he needed for thinking was still otherwise occupied.)

* * *

A/N: So yes, during the scene with the SnapeGlare™, I plead poetic licence. I _know_ it was Quirrell who caused Harry's scar to hurt, and not Snape. However, Harry originally believed it _was_ Snape, so I'm playing with that here.

Also, check out my one-shot ficlet, "Asking Too Much," which features exclusively Snape…and someone else. It's my first attempt at first-person narration; I hope I didn't mangle poor Severus too badly.


	22. A Gift, Complications Thown in Free

**A/N: **Before you say anything, I KNOW it has been a really long time. Mea culpa. Schools started up again (woo! Physics and Organic), and I've been teaching music and the like. To make it up to you, my loyal readers, this chapter is twice as long. You can now put down your torches and pitch forks.

oOoOoOo

**A Gift, Complications Thrown in Free**

There was knocking at the door to the Headmaster's office.

The door opened and Yonati entered the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Ah, Your Majesty, please come in," Dumbledore said in greeting. "I see you have made it here in one piece?" he asked jokingly.

Yonati chuckled lightly. "In one piece, and in certainly better shape than last time," he answered. "Was there something specific you wanted to ask me about? The last time you scried, you were quite vague."

"No, nothing specific," Dumbledore paused to pop a sherbet lemon into his mouth, "though I did want to ask you a few questions regarding your daughter. Sherbet lemon?"

This statement caught Yonati's attention, as he waved away the sweet. "Oh? About what?" He awaited the oncoming explanation with some trepidation. Although Yonati had agreed to ally with Dumbledore's side in this conflict, he still wished to keep his daughter's —and therefore his kingdom's— involvement to a minimum. The bare minimum.

Dumbledore pushed the bowl of sweets onto the corner of his desk. He then folded his hands in front of him. "You remember the resistance order we discussed last time?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Ah, yes."

At that affirmative response, Dumbledore went on, "Since Professor Rohal was doing so well teaching your techniques to the Hogwarts students, I'd like her to do the same for the Order as well. However, to do this she would have to meet many more members, and I would much prefer to have her bound to secrecy not to reveal their identities. Of course, the reverse would be true as well, and the other Order members would be bound not to reveal her identity. This would improve the safety of all involved, and would also allow Professor Rohal to take a more active role."

That got Yonati's mind working. Perhaps, _perhaps_ he could use this to his favour. If his daughter was added as a member to this 'Order,' then he would be privy to more information (as he did not expect his ally to share _everything_ with him; he certainly didn't), information that would surely be useful as events began to unfold themselves. From what he had been told, this Voldemort person hadn't revealed himself to the public at large, and was simply biding his time. And Yonati would bide his time as well; his life was long enough, and he knew he would long outlive any puerile conflict that these wizards could involve themselves in…but immortality? From what he had been told, Voldemort would not stop there, he would continue until he had conquered the entire world – and that was something he simply could not allow. The world held a delicate balance, and such actions would alter it forever.

Yonati finally decided that he would allow Noira to become involved with this Order, though her role would be severely limited. "She may join, if she wishes," he finally answered Dumbledore. "However, it will be purely in an observatory or advisory form. She is not to be involved in any direct manner or partake in any direct confrontations."

"I understand completely," Dumbledore agreed. "If she were to do more magic than the simple spells she performs here, she would probably be recognized as being something other than an ordinary witch. So far only three of us know your true nature – myself, my deputy headmistress, and Prof Severus Snape – and I'd like to keep it that way."

Fawkes decided to fly down from his perch, and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder. Dumbledore raised his hand to absentmindedly scratch the bird's chin as he continued his reasoning. "It would also make use of the potion they're working on much easier, especially if the rest of the order knows that Severus will vouch for her and her work."

Yonati listened patiently until Dumbledore mentioned the potion. "Pardon me, but now that you've mentioned it, have you received any updates on the scroll I've sent?"

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "Indeed, I did. Professor Rohal said that she was nearly done with the translation."

Yonati sat forward in his chair and looked slightly peeved at this news. "Really? I would have thought that…"

They were interrupted by the sight of strange lights filtering in through the window in the tower office. "What is that?" Yonati asked.

Dumbledore looked out of the window land then at one of the devices on his desk. "The wards are still intact around the grounds, but the disturbance seems to be coming from just outside their edge…I'm afraid I'm not sure what those lights are."

Yonati growled as he closely examined the lights and magic that shimmered from deep within the Forbidden Forest. "I know _exactly_ what it is…"

oOoOo

Noira led Snape across the lawns towards the Forbidden Forest. Snape followed her giggling form single-mindedly, spurred onward by her coy looks over her shoulder. If she wanted a chase, he'd be glad to oblige her!

Every time that Snape would draw near enough to just reach her waist, Noira would speed up just enough to keep out of his reach, but close enough to remain within range of the spell.

Luckily for him, there was no one on the grounds to witness the spectacle of the Potions Master chasing a woman across the lawns; if a student saw—or one of the staff for that matter—it would have added to the gossip swirling around them. So far, the gossip had managed to die down to a dull roar…at least while he was glaring.

Snape finally managed to grab a hold of Noira as they reached the greenhouses. Pushing her up against the greenhouse wall, he held by her hips and peppered her neck and face with feverish kisses. Noira wrapped her arms around Snape's neck, and giggled as his cloak enveloped both of them; it nearly hid her from sight. She gasped in surprise and pleasure when he nipped at her neck, and sighing, she melted into his arms.

Snape pinned her against the wall with his hips, so she could clearly feel her effect on him. "Trying to escape, fey?" he whispered silkily in her ear, before taking the lobe of her ear in his mouth and sucking gently. He could feel her shiver against him, and he tightened his hold on her. "I plan on keeping you forever."

"In a jar on your desk?" she managed to say between shallow breaths.

_Tied to my bed is more like it. _He chuckled darkly and moved to place a deceptively light kiss upon her lips; it was a silent promise of much more to come. "If needs be," he answered her.

When he leaned in for another kiss, Noira held him at bay with a hand upon his chest. "Severus, I wish to ask you something."

"Hmm?" He would have rather kissed her than listen to her, but he supposed that he could make a concession.

Noira raised her hand to twirl a few strands of his hair around her fingertips. She looked him in the eye. "Do you trust me?"

_Trust? **What! **_Snape instinctively took a step back. His smirk vanished, and his face was carefully blank as he warily observed her.

Why would she ask him if he trusted her? What could she possibly have planned? He was tempted to use Legilimency on her again, but he wasn't sure if it was such a good idea. He wanted her to trust him so badly, but he knew that performing Legilimency on her would break whatever fragile trust he had already established. In any case, he had a feeling she_ did_ know about his botched Legilimency attempt (he was still kicking himself), and felt that this question was a test of sorts—a test he did not appreciate in the least. He bent his head down to look into her eyes, hoping the answer to whether he could trust her or not would be revealed in her gaze.

When she smiled patiently at him, he heard a lilt of a soft melody go through his mind, and it sounded just like the music he had heard during the Legilimency attempt, and it was then that he felt he knew her mind intimately—like she could tell him no lie.

Why was he so inclined to trust her? He'd never given her a real reason to trust him, after all, and yet she seemed to; was he simply responding to that trust? She never had shown herself to be trustworthy, of course; on the other hand, she had never shown herself to be _not_ trustworthy, either. If anyone couldn't be trusted, it was him, based on available evidence. Sighing resignedly, he decided to follow this wherever it would lead.

Stepping close to her once more, Snape ran a finger possessively along the side of her cheek. He cupped her chin and tilted her head so she looked up at him. "I…trust you," he said carefully.

Her eyes glittered with a gold light as she told him, "I have a gift for you; follow me to the forest."

He nodded when he saw the glow that filled her at his confession. How could he refuse her? "As you wish," he agreed.

Without a word, Noira smiled secretively and took his hand in hers, and led him the rest of the way to the Forbidden Forest.

oOoOoOo

Snape drew his wand the moment they entered the woods. He could sense the dark creatures watching them from afar, and every noise seemed ominous. Noira, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease with her surroundings. As far as Snape could tell, she wasn't even armed. She had left the swords in her room, and didn't even have her rope with her.

When Noira stopped at the edge of the forest, Snape came up behind her and murmured in her ear, "Where are we going?"

She turned around and clasped his hand in silence. Her eyes began to glow as she dragged him deeper into the unknown.

She led him the brush at the edge of the woods, and his robes and cloak caught and snagged in the dense growth, even though hers didn't. It was almost as if the brambles had parted for her. The wind whistled through the trees, causing them to creak and bend, and Snape could hear pained moans coming from deep within the Forbidden Forest.

He began to awaken from his love-drunk stupor. This was not what he had expected at all. He grabbed her arm. "We shouldn't be here; the forest isn't safe this time of night. For that matter, it isn't safe at all."

Noira only gave a bell-like laugh and disappeared from view.

Snape groped the air blindly where she had been standing with her hand clasped in his a moment before. He looked around, annoyed. He _knew_ she had done this to him before during that one night on patrol (bloody werewolf impersonation), and it wasn't any funnier the second time around. "Noira? Where are you?"

There was no response.

"Lumos." He used the light from his wand to see what was ahead. This was not his idea of a good joke. If he found out that she had lured him into these gods-forsaken woods merely to taunt him, he'd… _I'd hex her back to Tir na nOg, that's what._ He cast the Four-Point Spell to find her, and watched as his wand spun in a circle before stopping to point at the space directly in front of him. He wiped his face in frustration; there was nothing in front of him, except for trees — definitely no Noira. Apprehensively, he stalked off in the direction the wand had told him to go.

"Noira? Hey...Ow!" He had smacked straight into a low branch. _By the Serpent…_If he ever found his way out of this forest, he was going to kill her.

There was a snap behind him. Turning sharply, his robes billowed just enough to tangle in the underbrush. He uttered a muffled curse and ripped the hem free. Not wanting to attract any creatures of the forest, he doused his wandlight with a whispered, "Nox."

He stood in silence as the icy wind whipped is cloak around him. He gripped the garment closer to him and waited for any sign of Noira. Soon he saw a flash of glowing yellow, and he knew that had to be her.

"Noira! Where are you going? Stop!"

He chased her in the darkness, tripping over dead branches and scrambling through the brush. He kept his wand dimmed for fear of losing sight of her glowing eyes; he should have known better than to trust her when her eyes were glowing. Snape did not know where he was, and he had no intention of becoming _further_ lost.

His lungs heaved with the effort of chasing her through the night, and his robes caught on every bramble along the way. The branches tore at his hands as he pushed them out of the way, and he often had to change his course to keep her in sight. "I'm following a damn hinkypunk…her and her thrice-damned glowing eyes…bloody pointless," he grumbled in frustration.

He struggled to keep up with her, as every time he felt he was in reach of her, she would disappear anew.

By this point, any other man would have given up. No, not Severus Snape; he was a man on a mission…hell bent on hexing her arse for leading him on this chase.

He chased her into a small clearing, and then lost sight of her completely. He walked cautiously to the centre of the hollow, keeping his wand drawn.

He could see his breath in the cold air, even in the dim darkness of the night. After a few moments of thought, Snape traded the safety of the darkness for additional visibility, and relit his wand.

"Would you like your gift?" a familiar voice purred in his ear.

He spun around in surprise and pointed his wand at the intruder. "Oh," he lowered his wand. "It's you."

"Were you expecting Circe?"

Noira giggled and danced around him in a circle. Snape rolled his eyes at her uncaring display of cheerfulness. He gathered his robes about him and proceeded to sit down on an old stump. Halfway through the motion, he froze, and then stood back up.

He stood tall and glared at her as she continued to hum and dance around him. "How did you manage to disappear and run off without me? We've tried everything to break this curse of Dumbledore's, and you've gone and done it without a second thought!" He grabbed her by her left arm and continued to rant in a furious hiss, "And for that matter, why, in the name of Merlin's bloody pointed hat, have you brought me here? What—_hic—_gift? You mean this wonderful night—_hic—_time jaunt though the middle of a—_hic—_cold, icy, and—_hic—_ _dangerous _forest!"

Noira stood calmly before him, blinked, and wiped a fleck of his spit off of her cheek. "I never broke the charm."

"What!" A vein in his temple was beginning to throb. "Then, where—_hic—_the hell have you been? I am—_hic—_cold, scratch—_hic—_ed, and tired. My robes are torn, and _you_,—_hic—_princess, are rapidly becoming tiresome. Explain yourself!" he hissed.

Noira sighed and reached out to touch his stomach, just below his ribs. She made a twisting motion with her hand, and the hiccoughs ceased. "I was right in front of you the entire time. It is not _entirely_ my fault that you could not see me."

Snape gritted his teeth in frustration and resisted the urge to rip out his hair. "Stop this obtuseness. Explain yourself. Now." He released her arm and folded his own, waiting for her response.

Noira smiled and put her hand on his chest. He tried to ignore her as she allowed her hand to trail across his chest, over his shoulder, and around to his back. When she finally stood back in front of him, she put her hands on both of his shoulders, and urged him downward, to sit on the old stump behind him.

Noira walked to stand behind him, and leaned forward, putting her arms around his neck, so her bosom pressed against his back. Her cheek rested against his, and she hummed a pleasant tune in his ear. He still ignored her icily.

"Severus, it was an illusion. I am an illusion," she whispered.

_An illusion I wish to never wake from. _"Glamour?" he finally growled in response.

Noira moved his hair aside and pressed her lips against the smidgen of bare skin on his neck. He fiercely gripped the stump to keep from responding to her actions.

"Perhaps," she hummed against his neck. "I could not lead you here directly; you had to…make the journey on your own."

He turned to face her. "But, what journey? Why did you bring me here?" he demanded. _This is not at all what I expected._

"What do you see?" Noira asked, ignoring his question.

He huffed in disappointment and looked around. "Nothing but a cold, ancient forest. I see nothing of interest...except dead wood for a fire, because it's cold enough to freeze the toes off of a yeti."

Murmuring in a sing-song tone, she moved to kneel in front of him, and then ran her hands over his chest and back. He immediately felt warmer. She returned her hands to his face, running her fingertips over his lips and to his cheek. She turned his head by pressing her hand lightly against his cheek, her other hand extended and directed his view over the clearing.

"You rely too much on your eyes. Look _harder_…" she whispered.

Rolling his eyes, Snape re-examined his surroundings. He still saw nothing of interest. The trees were tall and still, and the faint starlight barely reached the ground. In fact, nothing moved… except the branches murmuring in the breeze… moths fluttering through the air…the twinkling starlight. He could sense the creatures that roamed nearby… He could taste the chill of the air on his tongue.

He could see…everything, now that he thought about it.

He turned his face to Noira, and he could sense…no, _see_ her magic. It was a sight foreign to his eyes, and he was quickly addicted. He looked at her face, and the glow that had before been relegated to only her eyes, now encompassed her entire being. Mist and swirls of gold and white appeared through her, in her, around her. He blinked in utter amazement…and the sight was gone. The dream was over.

He grimaced in pain at the loss of the vision, and Noira took his hands in hers. He looked up at her, and her eyes appeared soft, vulnerable.

"That is my gift," she whispered. "You will never be able to see as I do, nor will you ever see the threads themselves... but you will be able to sense what is around you. You will be able to receive…impressions of the magic you examine. I feel that this will help you in your cause, and allow you to observe with greater skill." She blushed and held his hands more tightly. "I must confess that I also had a selfish reason to grant you this; I wish for you to see what you look like through my eyes—tarnished yet gleaming, weathered and strong…so beautiful…" She released his hands to graze her knuckles against his cheek. "So powerful…"

She pressed a light, fluttering kiss against his lips. "Do you accept it?"

Snape gave a mental snort. Was she daft? How was he _beautiful _in her eyes? He had no illusions about his sickly looks, and he knew beyond a doubt that his soul was tarnished beyond saving. How would such a fault allow him to see? How was he even worthy of such a gift freely given? He wondered what she saw when she looked at him.

He remembered her telling him about how she could see dark magic; why would she give him, or all people, that ability? Why not Dumbledore or the Aurors? He asked her just as much.

She responded enigmatically, "Would you believe me if I said that I was told to? Or, would you believe that this gift is purely my own? Choose the reason that compels you. I, however, choose you, and that is all that matters…do you accept?" Then he saw something in her manner change.

She spoke again; her voice carried both malice and reassurance. "Though I must warn you, every coin has its two sides, every power its weakness. Once given, it cannot be returned. The vision may drive your unaccustomed mind to insanity, or bring you to greater ecstasy than you have ever felt before." She whispered the last words into his ear, and he could feel her lips barely graze his skin.

Although this wasn't what he had expected when he had followed her into the forest, he accepted it all the same. The same hunger for knowledge that had led him to the Dark, now urged him to accept her gift. He wanted—no, needed that magic for his own. He had tasted of the fruit, and had become entangled in his need for more. He would have all of her if she would give it to him. A few moments of tense silence passed before he uttered, "Yes."

Noira released his hands and bent down to retrieve a handful of the snow that had remained in a clump by the tree stump. She gathered it into a ball and began chanting a charm over the frozen ball.

As she chanted, her voice gradually got louder until Snape could make out the syllables she sang, although he couldn't understand the language she spoke. Then, to his astonishment, he heard her words as if they were in English.

"…_We change our shape, wear our mask, and hide our true selves from the world. We watch and wait, and tempt fate as we see only what we wish. How they would tremble to know how different we are; how they would exult at how the same we truly are. Yet we still hide. Let us break through illusions and find the core of our reality…"_

As she sang, the snow condensed into a shimmering, liquid ball, and he could see swirls of colour whirling through it. At first, he only saw the white and gold of Noira's magic, but then those swirls were soon joined by streaks of midnight blue and blazing viridian, and he knew instinctively that it had to be his own magic he was seeing.

Noira's eyes began to glow, and the ball answered with its own echoing glow of many colours. The light filled up the clearing they were in, and banished away the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. The wind began to whip in a swirling vortex around them, yet nothing was disturbed. He could feel the wind, but he saw none of its effects.

Snape watched, in awe of the spectacle before him. _This,_ he thought,_ this is what the old tales meant when they described the fey in all of their glory._

He saw her eyes snap to his, and she beckoned him closer with a curl of her fingers. He moved in, and she pressed on his shoulder, forcing him to his knees before her. He could feel the soggy chill of the ground soak through his robes and trousers.

"What are you…?" he began, but she shushed him with a finger against his lips.

Noira snapped her fingers and Snape felt his mouth opening involuntarily, and he tried to work his jaw free from the web of magic that Noira had woven around him. He saw Noira lower the palm filled with liquid snow and magic to his lips, and he was compelled to drink the mixture to keep from drowning.

As the liquid poured down his throat, he felt as if he were being consumed by both fire and ice. It burned, stung, chilled, and numbed, yet, underneath the pain, he could feel the pleasure of the magic coursing into his veins, bolstering what he already had. He could feel…_power_, and he stopped fighting it; he knew he would do anything to complete this ritual.

He felt himself shrinking to the ground, and Noira grabbed him coldly by the jaw to keep him drinking. The more he drank, the more he felt like walls were closing in around him. He felt as if he were falling down a tunnel of light. He fell until the light exploded into obscurity, and he knew no more.

oOoOoOo

Noira gently lowered the unconscious Snape to the cold ground, and stretched him out until he lay comfortable. She caressed his face and tucked a stray clump of hair behind his ear. Taking his right hand in her left, she pulled a small knife out of her boot. With a whispered spell, she prepared to cut his hand open, and therefore make a matching cut on her own hand.

She was startled by a voice coming from behind her. "Daughter, what are you doing?"

She dropped both Snape's hand and the knife, and spun about to her feet.

"Father?" she asked warily. "What are you doing here?"

Yonati stepped forward just as the light Noira was emanating faded away. He completely ignored Snape, as he lay unconscious on the ground. "I came to speak with Albus on the progress of this wizard war. Strangely, there were lights coming from the forest, so of course, I came to investigate."

"Lights?" Noira asked dumbly. She _knew_ that her father had to have seen what she was doing, but she would admit to nothing until she had first seen his reaction.

He saw right through her attempt at ignorance. Yonati's manner was severe when he asked her, "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes widened when she realized that describing her father as angry would be an understatement. He was no longer speaking to her as her father; he was speaking to her as her king. Noira kneeled in deference to his position, and kept her eyes downcast. "I am helping their cause."

He hissed his response as he circled around her. "You are sharing secrets."

Before she could formulate a proper reply, Yonati had stopped abruptly in front of her and had begun to speak in clipped tones. "As I spoke with Albus, he told me that you had yet to give him any news on the potion that you have been working on. Tell me, what progress have you made?"

"I have nearly completed the translation on the Fijaku Garadest…"

"Nearly completed?" he interrupted her. "You have had that scroll for nearly a week, and you have yet to complete what should have only taken you one night? That is unacceptable."

Noira raised her eyes to look up at him imploringly. "Father I…"

He silenced her with a raised hand. "Have there been any unforeseen complications in the process?"

She began to think of a suitable reason. How was she to tell her father—her king—that she had no excuse for her shortcoming? How was she to tell him that she had been preoccupied by the dark Potions Master who now lay unconscious by her side? How was she to speak of something that would surely garner his disapproval?

"The dialect is so ancient," she began carefully. "It hasn't been used for ages."

"And how is that a problem?" he questioned her. "You have studied the ancient tongue, and should have had no problems coming up with the final solution. That is why I sent you; I knew I could trust you to get the job done, yet when I come, I see that you are stalling and SHARING SECRETS!"

Noira was hit by the full force of his displeasure, and could see his magic beginning to billow around him. Wisely, she chose to remain silent.

"Noira, as your king, I command you to stop this foolishness. _Do not_ complete this ritual, or I shall be forced to uphold our laws." Yonati emphasized this statement with a cutting motion of his hand. "I have already allowed you to teach our music, I have shared that potion with these wizards, yet you continue and give them our abilities? The laws have already been stretched beyond anything our ancestors could have ever dreamed of. I cannot condone any more."

Yonati looked his daughter over, and then his eyes flicked to where Snape lay. He began to growl and looked the two of them over again, as if he could not believe his eyes.

"What magic have you already given him?"

"Magic? There was nothing…"

He raised his hand to silence her. "What magic have you already given him?" he repeated, his anger evident in every word.

"I have _not_ given him any magic beyond what you had already seen," she said, trying to remain calm in spite of the danger she knew she was in.

He twirled his finger in the air and yanked on the strand of magic he had caught. Noira winced at the onslaught of a sudden headache. "There is a chain," Yonati stated. "A fibre of magic binding the two of you together. Do not lie to me; what did you give him?" He released the thread of magic.

"Nothing," she whispered.

Yonati sighed and knelt down next to her. He took her hand between his. "Daughter, do not place me in this position. I do not know what you have done to bind yourself to him, but _do not _do any more. I _must_ uphold our laws, and if I you do more, I will have to enforce them. Please," he whispered. "Cease this foolishness before you lose your home and I lose something far more precious." He reached out to caress the cheek of his daughter before pulling them both to their feet. "Please keep this in mind."

She only nodded glumly.

Her father looked at her with concern. Turning, he stepped away from her, and moved to the edge of the clearing. "Farewell."

Noira stood completely still until she was sure that her father had made his way out of the forest. Once she could no longer feel his presence, she collapsed to her knees and groaned into her hands.

She knew exactly what she had been threatened with—_exile. _And that was a sentence that would last until her death. That was a fate she refused to even imagine. Could she bear to live for centuries without ever seeing her homeland again? Without ever climbing the trees, or seeing the setting sun?

No; she would avoid that consequence, even if it meant denying the wizards and witches an invaluable tool to their cause. The worst punishment that her people could bestow was exile, and many considered it worse than death. She had only left Tirnab months ago, and already she yearned to see the sky there once more. What could be worse than facing the results of her actions for the rest of her long life, never to see the splendour of home again?

She felt a hot tear roll down her cheek. What had possessed her to give Snape that gift? She knew that she had been breaking her people's laws, but it would have been so useful for him to have had!

Noira crawled the few feet to where Snape still lay, and picked up the knife she had dropped. Perhaps she could finish the ritual…but no, her father would more than likely find out.

She clenched her hand around the knife handle and gritted her teeth. How utterly _stupid_ she had been! Her father had probably felt the magic as well as saw it, and if that was so, who else could have seen them? He had been in the castle when he had seen her, which meant that anyone could have if they had been looking her way. Her eyes widened when she made that realization. Were there enemies watching them in the forest? Her father had been attacked in the very same woods…could there be Death Eater spies lying wait?

With that observation, she decided to wake Snape and get them out of that forest as quickly as possible; she would explain everything to him later. Or explain as much as she dared to.

"I'm sorry." Noira reached out and caressed Snape's cheek, and she leaned over to bestow a light kiss on his lips, breaking him out of the sleep her magic had placed him under. His eyelids fluttered open, and he stretched to work out the stiffness that the cold ground had imparted on him. Noira reached out and ran her hands lightly over his chest and arms, and he immediately felt warmer.

Snape looked around, slightly disoriented, before his eyes fell on her. He shook his head and sat up. "Is that it?" he asked in reference to the ritual.

Not answering, Noira simply gave him a pained smile and helped him to his feet.

"Come," she said. "We must leave the forest." She took his hand and began to lead him out of the hollow.

Snape dug in his heels; he couldn't believe that had been the entire ceremony, and he wanted answers. He wrenched her back to where he was. "Is that it?" he demanded. "Was that the entire ritual? Can I now see as you do?"

With a wince, Noira sighed before answering, "No."

"What!" His rage was coming back. "Explain then, what you just did to me."

Noira frowned, and stepped closer until she could tenderly cup his face in her hands. "Your eyes," she hedged, "are beginning to open. You are beginning to see what is truly there, rather than what you wish to see…yet, there is a part of you that wishes to hide the truth. People have said that seeing is believing, but you have realized that our eyes can be deceived…and still, part of you wishes to be deceived. Why?"

Snape ran a hand through his hair as he contemplated the answer. But instead of answering, he returned to the original subject. "Why can't you complete the ritual?"

"Severus," she pleaded in earnest. "We _must_ leave the forest quickly. I will explain everything later, but we must return to the castle. Please…"

Snape saw a glimmer of fear in her eyes, and it unsettled him; fear was not an emotion he associated with her. He did not know what it was that had spooked her, but it must have been serious to evoke such a reaction in her.

"We _will_ finish this later," he promised her with a glare.

With that, they quickly backtracked their way out of the forest, and back to the castle.

oOoOoOo

A mangy, shivering rodent with a silver paw and twitching whiskers had watched the light show with great interest. When another man had shown up, he had scurried away in fear, for everything about that man screamed predator to his rodent mind. The fear was so strong and instinctual, that he had actually lost control of his form and ran away with a squeak.

He finally returned when the man had left, and he ran his paws over his twitching whiskers while waiting for something else to occur. When nothing did, he moved in closer to get a good view of the couple involved.

_Snape…?_ He wasn't sure what to make of that. However, he certainly didn't recognize the other person, though his mind feared her just as it had the other man.

He decided to leave and return to his master. While he had not found the clues his master had been seeking, he was sure that he would be pleased by this other news.

Sniffing the air, the rodent twitched its tail and scuttled off in the opposite direction of the retreating couple.

oOoOoOo

Noira and Severus finally reached the castle doors. Here the wind blew stronger, and Noira shivered, but it wasn't only from the chill.

Snape had noticed that she kept looking back as they made their way back across the grounds, like she had expected someone to be following them.

He stopped her the moment they had shut the castle doors behind them. "What is it? What happened out there?"

"Severus, not now. Please," she begged. "I will tell you once we get to your quarters."

He didn't release her arm. "Noira, tell me _now_. What happened out there?" he demanded.

"I…" She was saved from answering by a cheery whistle that echoed down the stone hall.

Noira sighed in relief even as Snape pushed them both deep into the shadows.

_Curses. _Dumbledore saw them, as the twinkling eyes always seemed to see everything.

"Ah, Severus, Noira," he nodded in greeting. "There you are. Did you enjoy your jaunt through the forest? The weather is particularly crisp tonight."

Noira paled and forced herself to smile. Snape saw this and shifted his weight so he stood partially in front of her. How had Dumbledore known where they had been? Oh yes, that's right—he's Dumbledore. "Yes, Headmaster," he uttered irritably. "It was a _splendid_ evening. Goodnight, we must go prepare for tomorrow's classes."

Dumbledore, however, did not dismiss them. "I met with the Tha'abas this evening," he said lightly as he sucked on his sherbet lemon. Noira paled further and looked like a deer about to bolt. He continued, "He asked about the state of the 'Saving Ice' potion he sent for the pair of you to work on. Could the two of you come to my office after your last class tomorrow?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Noira squeaked. She moved to make a dash for the stairs heading down to the dungeons, but Snape stuck out his hand and grabbed her deftly by the upper arm.

"I have no desire to splatter against the Entrance Hall floors," Snape muttered dryly. He was well aware of how uncomfortable Noira was, and he wondered why. She looked him in the eye, and he felt a flutter of panic pierce his mind; he realized they needed to return to the privacy of his rooms before the matter could be dealt with.

He turned to look at Dumbledore, and he seemed to understand the unspoken question Snape had asked him. He gave the Headmaster a brief bow, and bid him, again, goodnight. Noira sighed in relief when Dumbledore finally dismissed them, and she sagged against Snape's side.

Once Dumbledore had turned the corner, Snape grabbed Noira by the wrist and lead her down to his quarters. They entered his rooms and he shut the door behind them. He took off his cloak and carelessly tossed it onto a chair.

"Can you _finally_ explain what is going on?" Snape snapped at her.

Instead of answering, Noira dropped her cloak directly onto the ground, and began fretfully pacing the few steps she could make. She was mumbling under her breath, and Snape could barely make out what she was saying.

"…such an idiot…could have been seen by anyone…exile…_Doshe…_"

Snape watched her pace, slightly perturbed by her actions. He had never before seen her become this unhinged, and he was fairly certain it had something to do with the time he had spent unconscious. What possibly could have happened? He didn't sense anyone following them…but, why did Noira pale when Dumbledore had mentioned her father? For that matter, _why did she stop that ritual? _He wanted—no, _needed_—that magic for his own, and as sure as he was a Slytherin, he would find a way to get it.

He watched her as she nervously paced. "Noira…"

"…complete and utter fool…cursed potion…translation…idiocy, the whole lot of it…"

Her pacing was getting on his last nerve. Gods! How she frustrated him. He tried to get her attention again, but she ignored him completely. He made to reach for her arm.

"…_matz zumonis…Doshe thafudet ni al…"_

Now he knew something was seriously wrong; Noira had slipped back into talking into her Tirnai-whatnot language. He _hated_ when she did that, he couldn't understand a thing she was saying.

He finally reached his last nerve. Noira paced by him once more, and he reached out and grabbed her by the upper arms. He then cornered her by trapping her against the wall. "Get a hold of yourself, and stop speaking nonsense," he growled at her.

Snape braced himself for her expected fireball, but strangely, Noira just sighed and rested her head against his chest. "Why do things have to be so complicated," she mumbled miserably into his robes.

_Well, that was unexpected._ He had practically insulted her to her face, and all she did was sigh and lean against him. Snape decided that he might be losing his touch…or that she really was upset enough to ignore his venom.

His eyes narrowed in contemplation before widening with a gleam of black realization. This, _this_ was the perfect time to get information out of her; she might just be off-centre enough to answer all of his questions—on the book he had been reading, and on the incomplete ritual—if he played this right.

He exhaled deeply and centred himself. The hands that had been tightly gripping her arms relaxed, and began to lightly rub instead. "Noira," he murmured silkily in her ear, "come; let's sit down, shall we?"

She nodded numbly and allowed herself to be led to the couch in Snape's sitting room. Snape lit the fire with a whispered, "_Incendio,"_ and sat down, stealthily pulling Noira to his side. He took her hands in his, and lightly rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "Tell me, what's wrong?" he asked in his best velvety drawl.

Noira jerked her hands out of his, and hid her face behind them instead. Snape cursed silently and wondered the best course of action. He decided that pulling her into a chaste, comforting …_hug—_he thought with distaste—would be the best bet.

He felt Noira jump at his first tentative hug, and he paused; it wouldn't do for him to scare her away. When she didn't pull away, he pulled her tighter against him, inhaling the bouquet of aromas that was her hair—though he had yet to see what she used…not that he cared or anything…he just liked it…a little…on her…_and would make it for her if she let him._ Damn it.

Returning his mind to the matter at hand (or at arm, he should say), he raised one hand to caress her curls, wondering how to get the answers he wanted out of her. She curled against his side, and he held her tighter. It seemed it was the right thing to do…

The moment he held her tighter, she pulled away like she had felt trapped in his arms. Snape quickly realized that that was the wrong thing to do, and was forced to release her or be dragged along in an undignified manner. Noira scooted out of his grasp, and to the far end of the couch.

_Blast,_ obviously that was not the right approach to take. He looked at the fire and contemplated his next move as he rhythmically tapped his fingers against his knee. When he looked back, Noira was sitting fretfully hunched over with her hands clenched tightly together, her head resting against her knuckles.

She looked like she was trying very hard to remain calm, and Snape scowled as he tried to figure her out. When they were in the woods, Noira had been confident and almost (well, literally) radiant; when they had re-entered the castle, she had nearly been a nervous wreck; when they entered his rooms she had become despondent and resigned. The last two of these were emotions that he would normally place with her, and obviously his attempt at comforting her (a shabby attempt at best), did absolutely no good.

What in the name of Salazar's scheming was wrong with her?

He saw a single tear of frustration roll down her cheek, and he rolled his eyes. _There was sadness, now all I need is for her anger to show up._

He realized he needed to radically change his approach; he decided he might want to provoke her rather than placate her. Snape forced the smirk from his face when she looked up at him, and he rose from his seat.

He rose and walked around the closer end of the couch to stand right behind her, and leaned forward to place a hand on each of her shoulders. He began to lightly knead, and leaned forward so that his air fell forward, and his mouth was inches from her ear, his breath tickling her ear; he could feel her indecision on whether to move or not. After a long pause, he whispered, "Whom shall I poison for you?"

Noira growled in exasperation and turned in her seat to face him. "Could you sit down and stop with the sarcasm for once? I am not in the mood."

Giving her a condescending bow in response, Snape walked back around the couch and returned to his original seat. Provoking her had at lest garnered a coherent response out of her.

Handing her a handkerchief he had fished out of his robe pocket, Snape decided that now was the time to possibly get some answers out of her. He decided to pull an Albus and feign omniscience. He started with trying to figure out what had happened. "It's simply terrible what happened in the woods this evening."

Noira raised her head and sniffed, drying her tears with the handkerchief. "What do you know about what happened?"

He didn't like the accusatory tone in her voice. He tried again, "You worked so hard, only to not complete that ritual."

That seemed to be the ticket. Noira buried her head back in his shoulder and groaned. "I was so close to finishing; all I had to do was…" She winced and dropped off mid-sentence.

Snape cursed his ill luck. He knew that she was about to say how to complete the ritual, but she had stopped talking before telling him the rest of it. "All you had to accomplish was that one last step." What step, he had no clue. "Why did you stop?"

"Because I was stupid." He was caught by the venom she thrust into her words. "We could have been seen, and in fact, we _were_ seen…by my father. If it had been anyone else, I would have been exposed for what I am…"

"A Sidhe?" he interrupted her.

"What did you say?" she whispered. He felt her stiffen in his arms, and realized that was probably not the best thing to have said. _Damn it, I'm thinking out loud again._

Before he could respond, she paled and yanked herself free of his arms. "You know not what you speak of," she growled with her fangs bared.

Snape tried to ignore the smoke and embers sparking from her, but it was hard to do so when they were in danger of lighting his robes on fire. _Impeccably smooth, idiot. _He had a feeling he was about to find the fireball he had expected earlier.

But he had already opened his mouth, and it was too late to take those two words back; he'd have to plough strait ahead with what he knew was going to end up a train wreck.

He tried to placate her. Why was this bit of information so important to her? "But I do," he whispered silkily. "I know that you are powerful, well beyond anything that a wizard could ever hope to achieve." _Not; I could take her, _he lied to himselfHe knew he was laying it on with a trowel, but if a little flattery could get him a long way, then a lot should send him to the moon and back.

The embers dissipated, but she still regarded him with suspicion and an underlying tremor of fear.

Snape wondered what he should tell her next. Obviously, he had discovered information that she didn't want anyone to know. But, why was her being a Sidhe such a bad thing?

He decided that he certainly wouldn't tell her about the book, but referencing what happened in the woods might not be too revealing. "The stories of old…fairytales, if you wish, told us much about the fey—the Sidhe in particular." He paused with a smirk and reached out to touch her still-scowling face. He saw how she calmed with his touch, and marvelled over it. "They described the Sidhe as possessing luminous eyes when they worked their magic, as being masters of illusion and glamour, as being able to hide in plain sight, and as having an innate—_fondness_ of music. In summary, the exact embodiment of _yourself_."

"I am a fool," she whispered, "and the Fates conspire against me." She turned to Snape with haunted eyes. "Why are you telling me this? Why now? What do you want?"

"What happened out in the woods? You promised that you would tell me," he countered, ignoring her questions.

For a moment, she looked as if she was going to answer him, but instead she said nothing for several minutes. "Then I lied, for I cannot tell you," she finally responded.

Snape didn't ask another time, and simply stared at her coolly. Several more minutes past in silence.

"I am not telling you."

He cocked an eyebrow and continued to stare.

"I will not tell you."

Snape began to smirk.

Noira stood up with a growl and began to yell. "Take that smirk off of your face; there is nothing I can tell you! What do you want me to say? That I have broken my kingdom's laws by having you recognize me for what I am? That I have been threatened with exile and banishment for even _attempting_ to give you one of our greatest gifts? That all I had left to do was mingle our blood then apply a salve? That I…" Noira paused when she realized what she had told him, and here face filled with horror."_Doshe kaztaet ud! _Damn you…damn you, Severus."

Noira took a step back, and Snape recognized his cue; he jumped up, and pulled Noira tightly against his chest so that she couldn't run away.

"Unhand me!" she yelled. "What is it you want from me?" She continued to struggle, but Snape continued to hold her tightly to him.

"Hush, I want nothing from you," he hissed in her ear. "Be still, or I'll put you in a Leg Locker."

"I cannot take this anymore. Please, just let me go…" She sagged against him, ceasing to fight, and began to sob. "Just let me go…"

"I'm not letting you go." He continued to hold her as she cried into his shoulder, even though he still had many questions he still wanted to ask. However, those would have to wait—at least he had found out the she was indeed a Sidhe, but that in itself raised many more questions. Why did she hide it? Was it simply because of the Dark Lord's rise, or were there further reasons as well?

He manoeuvred them until they were once again seated on the couch, and he pensively stroked Noira's hair as she cried silently into his shoulder.

Snape continued to think. He knew that whatever had happened in the woods had set everything off. He knew that she hadn't finished the ritual, even though he already felt a heightened state of awareness…why wouldn't she complete it? He had heard the information that had slipped out at the end of her rant, but he had no intention of letting her know that he remembered it. The last step didn't sound that difficult, though finding out the identity of the salve might prove difficult. He wouldn't bother her over it; if she couldn't complete the ritual, he would.

Snape stared into the hearth and watched the flames dance between the wooden logs.

After spending three weeks glued to Noira's side, she was still a complete mystery to him. He had no idea what drove her to act the way she did, or what had frightened her so today. And above all, why was she hiding this information about herself?

There was a growing part of him that felt sorry for bringing her to tears, making him feel somewhat responsible for her predicament, but another part still craved the completion of the ritual. And underneath it all was his growing feelings for her. The other wizards and witches would scoff at him, telling him that the hope he harboured was a lost cause, that she would never love him. But he would try, even if continuing down the path he was on would ensure it would never happen. His mind was now in conflict with the shrivelled thing he called his heart; would she ever forgive him if he completed the ritual?

If he had his way, she would never have to, for she would never know.


	23. Questions, and Very Few Answers

A/N: First off, I apologize for my long absense. But, as I am a college student, classes come first...as often as I wish I could skip them all together. Please review! Just say that you're glad to see I'm still alive...or that you enjoyed this chapter...or whatever. Horiatis, wonderfully beta'd as usual, by Val!

* * *

**Questions, and Very Few Answers **

When Noira awoke the next morning, she quickly realized that they had spent the entire night on that couch, and _kaztaet!_ It was cold as a hag's…well, it was cold.

Noira stretched out her arms, and lifted her head of off Snape's lap. She rubbed her eyes—they felt raw and puffy from last night's tears—and twisted to get the kinks out of her back. Flicking an impatient finger at the fire, she coaxed it back to life, and the frigid bite began to leave the air. She unpinned her vaya and wrapped it around herself like a large blanket, and then looked about the room. Glancing at Snape, who was still fast asleep, she watched him slowly breathe and she leaned forward to move an errant strand of hair from his face. He looked distinctly uncomfortable with his head leaning back at a strange angle, and she moved a throw pillow behind his head.

Watching his lips move in unguarded slumber, she could almost imagine them sneer the word, "_Sidhe…"_

Noira groaned and collapsed against the backrest. Could yesterday have been any worse? It wasn't everyday that one was threatened with exile. Why had she disregarded her laws so blatantly as to try to give Snape the gift of Sight? With a huff, she answered her own question; it was because she had allowed her foolish optimism to get ahead of her. _Oh, it would just be sooo helpful if he could see the way I do…It would help sooo much with his gathering of information. The side of light would benefit sooo much if they only had…_the common sense of a flobberworm, which was infinitely more than she felt like she had at the moment. She never realized, until it was almost too late, that she had nearly sentenced herself to half a millennium of wandering. Oops.

On top of that, her father—sorry, her _king_—had rebuked her for not having completed the translation on the potion formula yet; sorry, she had to spend her days _teaching_, as that had been his idea too. Sometimes, (Doshe forgive her for thinking this way,) she felt like a tool, used merely as a means to reach an end. Of course, Snape's asking about her homeland had induced enough homesickness to make her feel even more disgruntled at being shipped away to do what her father though best rather than what _she_ thought best.

With a grimace, she realized what might have influenced her choice to give Snape the gift of Sight: she felt so alone here, for no matter how she could try to blend in at this magical school, no glamour would ever disguise her enough to live seamlessly among these wizards, since she could never fully hide her fangs. She couldn't talk to _anyone_ without having to censor her words for 'sensitive' content…even if she counted the black-garbed parasite at her side! With a frown, she realized that she only wanted...someone to be like her.

And therein lay her problem—in her search for companionship, she had revealed herself to an extent far beyond what was allowed. It had only been a matter of time before someone figured her out. Yet…there was something about this that simply did not make sense.

How_ had_ Snape figured her out? She had been as careful as she could have been; she had improved her ring, finally controlled her, ah—feather outbreaks…where had she gone wrong? Her eyes widened with a realization; what did he know that she didn't?

The answer would seem to be 'not much,' as she knew he had been bluffing when he mentioned the aftermath of her interrupted ritual. He had been under a magical sleep; how was he to know what had happened?

Snape's announcement that he knew she was an—_ugh_—Sidhe, could not possibly lead to any good, and it seemed that yesterday's question should have been, 'Can I trust _you_?' instead of 'Do you trust _me_?' If he had figured it out, who else would? Would the other staff figure it out…would Umbridge? For that matter, would Voldemort find out? In any case, she knew that Snape was a Death Eater; would his master find a way to extract this information? She prayed that this would not be so.

It wasn't so much Snape knowing that she was a Sidhe that bothered her, it was the consequences of someone else finding out. She remembered all the stories she had been told as a child, about how here people had been chased away by wizards too power-hungry for their own good. At one time, millennia ago, her people had routinely mingled among humans, with their few children becoming the first wizards.

That idyll hadn't lasted long. The more generations that passed, the more diluted the wizards' magic became. In some families, it went completely dormant before re-emerging centuries later. In some families it never re-emerged at all. The wizards had begun to seek out more magic, demanding that the Tirnai—the Sidhe—mix with them, even to the point of battles being fought over the Sidhe women, for it was only the women who could give them magic. By some twist of genetics, only Tirnai women could transfer their magic to their offspring, though the wizards themselves did not have this restriction.

When her people had fought back against this outrage, they had been demonized; the prejudices of the day had resulted in them being thought of as beasts for the way they fought in battle. Many had little choice but to hide, or be engaged in constant conflict.

Noira sighed. She knew that her father meant well by wanting to limit her interaction with the wizards; even though the stories were from long ago, they told lessons to be remembered. After all, the conflict was bad enough that the Tirnai left this world altogether, or 'run for the hills' as the early wizards had put it. Their hatred of the name 'Sidhe' came from that time too; it would never mean anything to them but the wizards' epithet of 'coward' – and the Tirnai were no cowards.

Noira had no doubt that most wizards would simply consider her kind little more than beasts, never mind the roll that the Tirnai had played in the wizard's creation. No, at best they would call her a beast and stone her; at worst, they would use her magic for nefarious ends, and that was something she could never allow…not that the first option looked any better. After all, who wouldn't kill to hide in plain sight, or to tear apart spells at their very foundation, or to cause unstoppable fear with a single melody, or to see magic at its core, or to be able to…_No! Not going there. _

"'Or to be able to' what?" she heard Snape say.

"To be able to sha—" she heard herself answering before catching herself. She hadn't realized Snape had been awake; she had been so deep in thought. Wait…had she been thinking out loud? No…she hadn't, which meant, "Are you reading my mind?" she questioned him angrily.

She continued before he had a chance to answer. "What, just because I am a _Sidhe_," she spat, "that makes me untrustworthy? Do you have to read my mind just to feel that I am being honest? I have heard all of the old stories. You wizards are all alike, fearing—"

Snape yawned and lazily flicked his wand, cutting her off mid-rant._ "Silencio."_

Noira continued to speak until she realized that she had been magically silenced. She gave a silent growl of fury and pinned Snape with a glare that clearly said, "Explain yourself before I cut an explanation out of your hide."

He seemed to ignore her fury and smirked at her. "Now, now," he chided her condescendingly. "You know there is no such thing as mind reading; you truly have no subtlety. And besides," he added, "It's no worse than what you did to me."

_Oh, that infuriating, conniving, devil of a man!_ Noira couldn't suppress the anger that surged through her, and she launched herself at Snape amidst a shower of embers.

He merely sidestepped her attack. Noira landed on his just-vacated seat, and spun about to face him with bared fangs.

"Please watch where you leave your embers; I'm actually fond of that couch."

_Argh!!! That is it; he is going to die._ Noira stood from the couch and stalked him like a jungle cat; she could see him finally becoming nervous, and she widened her snarl, just to emphasize his impending doom.

"Noira…"

Noira cornered him against the wall, and stood up on her toes to be eye-to-eye with him. She put her hands on the wall to either side of him, and suppressed his tentative move to escape with a well-timed snap of her fangs.

"Dearest…"

_What?!_ He had never called her that before; was he grasping at straws?

"Pet…"

_Oooh…_She was no one's pet.

"It's too early in the morning for this…"

_What, killing you? Nooo…it is never too early for that. _

oOoOoOo

Snape felt the cold wall behind his back, and he realized that by silencing Noira, he had only managed to back himself into a corner. Literally.

He could see flames smouldering in her eyes, and knew that that was not good, definitely not good. Was this backlash for discovering her 'secret' (not that it had take much effort), or had he really managed to infuriate her that much in the two minutes he had actually been awake? If so, then it surely had to be a new record.

When he had tried to sidestep her, she had snapped her fangs at him, and he quickly decided that moving wasn't the best option. Instead, he cast _Finite,_ hoping that her recovered voice would help cool her ire.

"Dearest?" he tried on a whim. _Ooh…never mind. _He was sure she was calculating just how to cause him the most pain with the least amount of effort.

"Pet?" he tried. He winced inwardly, as that was definitely not a good thing to call her, especially after reaffirming the fact that she wasn't human…

It wasn't that he feared her, per se; it was that she had that bloody glowing gleam in her eyes, the one that looked just short of turning into madness. That, he realized, and the fact that she probably had no qualms about biting him. _Good job, _his mind sneered. _You finally find someone, and she's literally a rabid animal._

"An animal?" The light in her eyes died. "Is that what you think of me?"

_What?!_ _No, no, no!_ He knew he didn't say that out loud, in fact, he _swore_ he didn't say it out loud.

Noira stepped away from him, and brought a shaking hand up to her mouth. He could see her close in on herself, and when she looked up at him, he could see a haunted look in her eyes. He watched Noira's fingertips trace the outline of her own mouth, as if she could feel the imprint of her earlier snarl still etched upon her face. She flinched when her index finger encountered a fang, and tears welled up into her eyes.

"A beast," she whispered. "Is that all I am…?"

Snape gave an internal groan; he knew what was coming next. _Oh, Merlin's bloody beard, don't break down on me again. You've already had your sob of the week, and that was only last night._ "Noira…" he tried.

Snape met her gaze, only to note that she still had the same deer-caught-in-the-lumos-light look in her eyes. He heard the slight murmur of her skirts ruffling as she lifted her foot, and—_Oh no—_he knew exactly what she was going to do.

She took another step back, and Snape automatically took one step forward. "Noira," he warned her with narrowed eyes, "Don't you dare…_ damn it!"_

She bolted, and Snape had no choice but to bolt after her.

Alas, he didn't move nearly fast enough. Snape felt the tug of their binding spell, right before they crashed together into a pile of limbs and wrinkled robes in font of the hearth.

This time, he was the one who landed on top. He pinned her by her wrists to keep her from running away—_again—_but she didn't struggle against him. Noira merely lay under him passively, which worried him…slightly. He rolled off of her, but still pinned her to the ground.

"Why do you keep running?" he growled at her. "And for the _second_ time, pick one of your many temperaments and employ it for more than thirty seconds at a time—or shall I send off to St. Mungo's for Headshrinker to straighten you out? Hmm? Well, what will it be?" he snapped.

"I…" Her mouth gaped as she tried to form an explanation, and then she shook her ruefully, as there was nothing she could say to make him understand. Noira closed her eyes and willed tears not to form.

Snape sighed and let his forehead rest against hers. He knew that everything, down to her current outburst, had started with yesterday evening. Attempting to reign in his frustration, he asked as calmly as he could manage, "Noira, we have yet to finish our conversation from last night. What happened in the woods yesterday? What could have possibly vexed you so?"

Noira turned her head away from him, and stared into the fire. "Nothing," she whispered.

"Somehow, I am not convinced." Snape released one of her arms and used that hand to turn her face back to him. He spoke with a velvet tone. "Look at me," he commanded when she refused to meet his eyes. "Tell me."

She didn't answer, and Snape narrowed his eyes.

That was it; Snape had had enough, and he was infuriated by her lack of response. He stood up, leaving Noira where she had fallen on the stone floor. Here he was, actually trying to get her to tell him what was wrong so that he could help her (he had forgotten his original motive for gathering information) and she rejected it outright. Did his feelings for her make any difference at all?

Snape stared pensively into the hearth as he heard Noira shift and gather herself into a ball at his feet. When her heard her sniffle, he spun about to face her.

"What do you want?"

Noira was surprised by his question. She wiped her eyes and looked up at him. "I could ask the same thing of you, for I know not what to expect from one minute to the next. It feels like every other minute you care, and every other you do not," she responded challengingly.

Snape bit back a sneer. "My, this is the most I've gotten out of you all morning, and for your information, it seems that this is one minute that I do care. Now, what do you want?"

"Truly?"

With a huff of annoyance, he responded, "Yes, truly. If it is within my power, I shall grant it to you." Snape didn't know what it was that brought on his sudden bout of benevolence, but by the gods, this was a promise he intended to keep. He couldn't stand to see Noira in this state any longer.

Noira bit her lip and looked almost apologetic at her response. "I…I want to be alone…" she whispered.

"Done." Without a second thought, Snape bent down and pulled Noira to her feet. Pulling her over to the couch, he tossed her vaya and pin at her, and pulled them back over to the hearth.

"What…what are you doing?" asked Noira, alarmed and confused by Snape's actions.

"You wish to be alone, and I will make it so." He reached for the jar of Floo Powder on his mantle. "Headmaster's Office," he called out.

"But…" Noira was cut off as she was pulled into the flames.

oOoOoOo

Fawkes was disturbed from his slumber by the sounds of a rushing Floo followed by a distinctive male voice.

"Headmaster? I need to speak with you," Snape called out.

Fawkes opened one lazy eye and saw the Potions Master begin to pace the moment he stepped out of the Floo. Professor Rohal, he saw, merely stood silently and watched Snape with wide eyes. Fawkes was not happy to be woken up.

"Headmaster?...Argh, get off of me, you stupid bird!"

Fawkes had flown down onto Snape's shoulder, and had been subsequently knocked off. Turning up his beak, Fawkes got the hint and flew off to land on Noira's shoulder, where he could get his feathers properly stroked. It wasn't his fault that he had been woken up in the middle of a nap. Fawkes thought that the least Snape could have done was apologize…but no, he could see a lost cause when it knocked him in the beak.

oOoOoOo

Dumbledore awoke to a buzzing chime telling him that someone was in his office. He reached for his half-moon spectacles and put them on. Glancing at the clock on his wall, he realized it wasn't even five in the morning!

Who on earth would bother him this early in the morning? It was probably Umbridge with some new decree to wave in his face…ah, no.

_"…you stupid bird!"_

Dumbledore recognized those dulcet tones. What did Snape want so early in the morning? He realized he hadn't heard him and Rohal arguing with one another, so he supposed that they had finally learned to get along, after their several weeks of co-habitation. Dumbledore knew they weren't here for the meeting he had requested; if so, they were only about twelve hours early…Well, whatever the reason, Dumbledore decided that he should rise and greet his visitors. Putting on a robe over his nightshirt, Dumbledore reluctantly rose from the comfort of his bed.

When Dumbledore opened the door from his chambers into his office, he was greeted by the sight Snape agitatedly pacing back and forth across the office, as Noira morosely looked on.

Clearing his throat to get the pair's attention, he said, "Professors, how can I help you so _early_ this morning?"

Snape turned around with a snap. Without preamble, he thrust out his right arm towards Dumbledore. "Take it off."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at Snape's demand. He glanced at the clock in his office, still not believing the hour. "There are only…nine hours left, surely you can wait for the spell to wear off on its own. Besides, this is punishment for the pair of you; it is not your place to demand its removal."

"Headmaster," said Snape as Noira remained silent. "This 'punishment' has continued long enough. I tire of this attachment; it is bordering on the cruel."

"Yet, the way the pair of you acted towards one another was not?" Dumbledore countered.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Headmaster, the strain is…"

"What would you like me to do about it?"

Snape gave a sigh. "I…I can't stand to see her like this," he explained in a low whisper. "She's never been this sullen. Headmaster, you know that I am a very private person. She has even more reason to be so…imagine the stress on her."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. It seemed that Snape had finally learned to genuinely care for another person's well being. It was like two birds with one stone! "Well, I only wanted you two to get along, and here you are growing more than chummy. I feel like a regular old matchmaker."

_Old is right,_ Snape thought. _And senile._ "Headmaster, the day you match me with someone is the day I voluntarily join the Lockheart fan club."

"And as we know that will never…" Dumbledore began.

"Headmaster," Snape said in earnest. "I know that I have no right, but I have never asked for much…"

"Very well." Dumbledore tapped his wand three times on Snape's bracelet, and then walked forward to give three taps to Noira's. Fawkes moved to Noira's other shoulder so she could lift her arm. When both motions had been completed, the bracelets had removed themselves, and zoomed onto the Headmaster's desk. Snape followed the bracelets' path with his eyes, and when he looked back at Noira, she was…

She was gone. All that was left was Fawkes standing on the ground, and a single, tiny olive brown feather.

How could she have disappeared so quickly? In disbelief, Snape opened the door to the stairwell, but she wasn't heading down the stairs. Neither had she used the Floo, and she had certainly not Apparated. Where could she have gone?

Alarmed, he turned back to Dumbledore. "Where did she go?" he asked. "I need to know; she may try…."

"Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "Don't worry, she is well enough. You said it yourself; she simply needed some time on her own. You will more than likely see her at breakfast."

Collapsing into a chair, Snape let a moment of weakness show through. "Headmaster… ah, somehow I do not believe she will be there. It is not the nature of her k…It is not in _her_ nature to forgive quickly," he amended hastily. "She may hold us both accountable for her predicament."

Dumbledore sat down across from him. "And what predicament is that?"

"I don't know," Snape said, leaning forward so that his hair covered his eyes. "Something happened in the woods last night, and I'm not quite sure what."

"You care for her, don't you?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Snape rose in anger; he was not going to answer that question. Nodding a hasty goodbye, he opened the door to the stairwell, and made his way down.

As he left, Dumbledore remained seated. Fawkes flew from the floor and landed on Dumbledore's knee, crooning a soft melody. "My friend," he said to the departed figure. "Take care that you do not fall in love with an illusion."

oOoOoOo

"Wormtail?" a cold voice called out. "Have you any news of Yaxley?"

A scabby looking rat scampered into the dingy room. Halfway across the room, it turned into an equally shabby man, who crawled to the feet of the speaker. "N..no, My Lord, there was no trace of him anywhere in the forest."

This displeased Lord Voldemort greatly. "His quarry was important to me, Wormtail," he hissed. "And Yaxley's disappearance troublesome. Yet, you search the Forbidden Forest for one night, and you claim that he cannot be found. Perhaps, it is that you are not looking hard enough."

Wormtail cringed at his master's last statement. "My Lord," he said, bowing even lower. "It has been several months since his disappearance; the animals would have done away with any remains."

"Yes, but his wand would remain!" said Voldemort, slamming his fist onto the arm of his throne. "Was it the proximity to Hogwarts and that fool Dumbledore that caused you to be hasty in your search? Was my servant too—_frightened_ to be thorough?" Wormtail resisted the urge to move away as Voldemort continued to rant. "I want his body found! Not even Snape has had any news for…"

Wormtail's ears perked up. "My lord," he interrupted dangerously. "Snape was in the forest!"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, and gripped his wand in warning at being interrupted. "Go on," he said slowly.

Eagerly, Wormtail complied. It was anything to escape punishment for his failure. "This night, while I was looking, I saw him in the forest…"

"You have already said as much," Voldemort tersely uttered.

"I apologize, My Lord." He was in for a penny, so… "He was in the forest… apologies… with a witch."

"And? Get to the point!"

"This witch did not seem normal, My Lord. In fact, she seemed to be more than a witch, and she was doing some ritual…" Wormtail trailed off smartly when Voldemort began to speak.

"Ah," Voldemort said while stroking his reptilian chin. "Has my servant been keeping secrets from me? Magic you say? What was she doing, exactly?"

"Well, My Lord," Wormtail began. "She was singing, and she was doing these strange movements with her hands, and…"

"Ah, interesting." The Dark Lord interrupted. "Did she use a wand?"

"No, My Lord, I did not see…"

"Yes, very interesting." Voldemort hissed at last.

"My Lord, what's interesting?" Wormtail asked cautiously.

"We will see, my _loyal_ servant." Wormtail almost believed he had gotten away without punishment.

"However, you have still failed your task; _Crucio!_"

oOoOoOo

When Snape had left Dumbledore's office, he had decided to take the long route through the castle, rather than simply Floo back to his quarters, all in the hope of seeing Noira on his way there. He took the winding route, even doing so much as to go by Noira's rooms on the second floor, before retracing his steps down to the Dungeons. Having searched most of the castle, he reluctantly decided that she had left the grounds.

When he had reached his Dungeon quarters, he collapsed wearily onto his bed. Snape had much to think over. What had happened yesterday? What did Noira see in the forest that had disturbed her so? Why didn't she finish the ritual? Last but not least, where in the blazes had she run off to? Well, he had an answer to one of his questions—she might have had sufficient reason to stop the ritual, especially when threatened with exile. Snape had to concede that exile was always an excellent reason to stop doing something.

As for the other questions, they would have to wait until Noira returned. Until that moment, he was also going to have himself a nice long nap, not waking up until it was a decent hour. He almost felt bad for waking Dumbledore up…nah, never mind.

Glancing at the clock, he realized he had a good hour and a half to sleep, and he planned to take full advantage of every minute.

Now, if he could just fall asleep…

Now, if he could just…

Now, if…

Bugger.

It wasn't going to happen; now he was wide awake. Giving a groan that sounded more like a snarl, Snape gave up trying to sleep and rose to take a shower.

God help his first class.

* * *

A/N: Short, I know, but it's something. Please review! I promise that the next chapter should be ready by December 1...Nope, I better not say that. It should be done soon!


	24. And Where Have You Been?

A/N: I know, I'm a horrible, horrible liar. I promised this earlier...but then my computer crashed and ATE this chapter, and the next, so I had to rewrite them both, then I finally sent this one off to my wonderful beta, Val. It's been a long time coming, but here it is.

* * *

**And where have you been?**

Noira still hadn't shown up by breakfast time. In one hand, stuffed deeply in his trouser pocket, Snape was holding tightly to the tiny olive brown feather that Noira had left behind. The fact that all he had found of her was a single feather, and a brown one this time, made no sense to him whatsoever. _What did it all bloody mean?_ Snape was worried, very worried, if the incessant tapping of his fingers against the table meant anything.

_Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap….._

McGonagall finally grabbed him by the hand, as the tapping was driving her up a wall. "Severus, stop that. If you're going to tap, the least you could do is be courteous and throw up a silencing charm."

With a sneer, Snape jerked his hand away from McGonagall and instead stirred his tea, which also made a pleasantly irritating 'tinking' sound. McGonagall simply rolled her eyes.

Leaning over, McGonagall quietly asked, "By the way, where is Professor Rohal? It's nearly unimaginable to see one of you without the other…and, now that I think of it," she added while buttering her toast, "isn't your 'bond' supposed to still be going on?"

Snape gripped the spoon so hard that he almost bent it. "How should I know where she's at? Do I look like her keeper?" he nearly snarled.

McGonagall pursed her lips in disapproval of Snape's temper. "My goodness, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Before Snape could respond, Hadley added in his own two knuts. "Fly the coop, did she?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Snape asked accusingly at Hadley. How on earth had he guessed what happened?

Hadley, oblivious—or not so oblivious was more likely—to Snape's discomfort, continued, "If I had any sense I'd fly south too; this winter's shaping up to be bloody cold."

"Oh Jeremiah, stop being so obnoxious." McGonagall chimed. "Maybe she just got up early to get some work done—early bird gets the worm, and all that."

Was it him, or did everyone sound like they were talking about birds? Was there something they knew that he didn't?

oOoOoOo

Harry, Hermione and Ron were sitting at the Gryffindor table, eating their breakfast. Hermione had insisted they all get up extra-early to finish their paper for McGonagall, so here they were, eating and studying simultaneously.

At least the boys' stomachs were happy.

Hermione looked up at the staff table, and noticed how Snape's face grew increasingly dark the more that the other professors chatted around him. Ron followed her line of sight. "Blimey, Snape sure looks angry today …well, angrier than usual.

Hermione turned back to her textbook, somehow managing to eat without spilling any crumbs on it. "Perhaps he just has something on his mind."

"Yeah," Ron countered. "Like the best way to poison us all in our sleep."

Ginny pitched a grape at him. "Oh, come off it, Ron. That's what everyone's dreaming about doing to you."

"Hush it, Ginny." Ron turned to Harry. "What do you think is up with Snape?"

"Professor Snape," Hermione interjected.

"Who knows what the git mulls on about," Harry answered. "Although…where's Professor Rohal? She's not up there."

Ron half-swallowed his food before asking, "Hermione, what's the situation with their bond-thingy?"

Hermione looked up from her book. "You mean their proximity bond?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Hermione began, "As a highly complex piece of magic, it probably has a set period of duration centred around some object on their person, and will probably end…"

Fred and George saw the lecture coming before it had even had a chance to get going. They leaped down the bench and shoved a first year out of their way in their haste to stop the impending disaster. Interrupting Hermione, George made a great show of checking his time piece, as Fred began, "There are seven…"

"…and one-half hours…"

"…remaining," the twins finished together, cutting the lecture off quite nicely.

"How did you know that?" Hermione asked them.

"Oh, it was quite clever of us…"

"And took loads of stealthy…"

"Oh, get on with it," Ron groaned.

Pretending to be miffed, Fred told them that he had simply asked one of the portraits.

"Oh, well that makes sense," the youngest Weasley brother conceded.

"But," Harry said. "That still doesn't tell us where she's at."

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe she's still sitting right next to them and just has an invisibility cloak on or something."

"Ron, there's no empty seat next to the git," Harry remarked at realizing Ron's attempt at a joke. "Seriously, do you think something's happened to her?"

Hermione tried to reason with him. "Harry, she's an adult; Professor Rohal doesn't need us worrying about her. She probably convinced Professor Dumbledore to let the bond end early, and is off doing work somewhere."

"Yeah, but why does Snape look so upset then?"

Fred and George exchanged significant glances. "Oh, Harry," George began, putting one of his hands on Harry's shoulder, and the other on Ron's. "You and Ickle Ronnykins are too innocent and inexperienced (Ron and Harry bristled at this) to understand what Snape's upset about."

Fred continued where his twin had left off. "There's a certain charm in having a witch at your side."

"As if you would know," Ginny interjected.

"Shut it, Ginny. As I was saying, there's a certain charm in having a witch at your side, especially when she shares your…"

"Fred! I'm telling mum if you finish that sentence!" said Ginny in warning.

George went to Ginny's side. "He was only going to say that Snape probably wishes he could get a…"

"Something rhyming with bag…" hinted Fred.

"Or hag…" continued George.

"Maybe flag…"

Disgusted, Hermione slammed down her book. "Fred, George, stop it or _I'm_ telling your mother."

Just then, Harry and Ron got what the twins were hinting at. Harry blanched while Ron turned a shade of green complementary to his hair. "Ewww….Oh, gross."

"Him…and her?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Do you really think they're…?" He couldn't even finish that thought, he was so disgusted.

Ron looked at Hermione. He couldn't understand why _anyone_ would think that about Snape. "Hermione…do you think…I mean, would you…um, do…Snape?"

Flabbergasted, Hermione couldn't believe that their conversation had even reached this level. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. And as far as the relationship between Professors Rohal and Snape go…first of all, it's none of our business, second of all, there's no evidence either way, and third of all, it's none of our business! Can we please change the subject?!"

oOoOoOo

It was Madam Pomfrey's turn to join into the conversation at the staff table. "Jeremiah, at least the castle is much warmer than the grounds. I know the students—and some professors—feel like they're caged during the winter, but at least they have something to sing about in here; it's warm!"

McGonagall shook her head. "Even so, the students still have to deal with their common room's pecking order, as much as we try to set everyone equal."

"Ah," added Hadley. "But the students who make it through all of their years have truly earned a feather in their cap…"

Salazar's crooked cap, they _were_ talking about birds…or Snape was going mental; he feared it was the second. Giving Dumbledore a glare for still being wrong, Snape rose from his chair, downed the last of his tea in one gulp and stalked from the Head Table. As he reached the opposite end of the table, he realized that his pocket was empty. _The feather! _

Snape turned sharply around and saw it at Umbridge's foot. He made a move to summon the feather with his wand, when he heard Umbridge's sickly sweet voice. _"Evanesco!_ Oh, I hate it when owls leave little bits of themselves everywhere."

Snape felt the blood rush from his face.

"Can I help you with something, Professor Snape?" Umbridge asked him with suspicion.

Not answering, Snape turned around and strode from the hall.

God help his first class, indeed.

oOoOoOo

The students saw Professor Snape's abrupt departure from the hall. "Now that we're done with _that_ topic…," Hermione said. "We should probably be a little early to Potions today."

Harry shook is head. "With the mood he's in, Snape will count us late even if we're on time."

Ron grumbled behind them, "If this is him in a bad mood, he'll probably dock us points for being early."

As they left the hall, Harry held Ron back. Yelling ahead, they told Hermione that they would meet her in Potions in a little while.

"Ron," Harry said. "Seriously, do you think something happened to Professor Rohal?"

"Why the concern?" Ron wondered.

"I don't know," Harry confessed. "It's just a feeling I have."

"It's not your scar is it?" Ron asked. At the negative shake of Harry's head, he said, "If it makes you feel better, I'll keep an eye out for anything suspicious." Ron shrugged. "Hey, you never know; she could be in Potions still helping Snape out."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

The pair of them hurried down the halls to catch up with Hermione and the rest of their class.

oOoOoOo

That Potions class, Professor Rohal was nowhere to be found. Ron and Harry traded a glance with Hermione; now she was worried as well. She cautiously raised her hand once Snape finished with the roll. "Sir," she asked. "Where is Professor Rohal?"

Harry swore he saw the normally unflappable man flinch.

Snape turned with a snap and leaned onto his podium. "As Professor Rohal does not teach this class, it is none of your concern," he countered forbiddingly. He flicked his wand and notes appeared on the board. "Page three hundred and ninety-four."

Harry raised his hand, "Are we still coming here after lunch since Professor Rohal isn't around?" He defiantly stared long and hard at the Potions Master, and he got the patented stare of death in return.

"Ten points from Gryffindor." Snape leaned further over the podium when Harry refused to open his book until he received an answer. "Page three hundred and ninety-four." Harry reluctantly lowered his eyes only to flash then to Ron and Hermione who gave him a bewildered shrug in return.

In all of the commotion of the past day, Snape had completely forgotten that Noira's class was supposed to return to the Dungeons to make some potion for their psalteries. What they had to make exactly, Snape had no clue; he had only been present for all of Noira's classes…not actually paying attention.

_Where the hell is she?_ He sincerely hoped that Noira would return in time for her class…wherever she was. He had no desire to deal with the brats in her class—again. Maybe, he thought, he could cancel the next class. _Yes, that sounds quite plausible_. Too bad that Dumbledore would probably have him substitute, as he had seen enough of her classes. _Bollocks. He can't make me do it; it's not my subject._

Above all—as much as he loathed admitting it—he worried about Noira. She had not seemed right this morning, and her abrupt departure left him to wonder if she would be alright. Maybe he had taken too lightly what she had gone through in the woods. Or maybe, she had second thoughts about associating with him and… had been leading him on the entire time. Yes, that reason made sense to Snape's paranoid mind, and the more he thought about it, the angrier it made him. He had read that fey were fickle beings, but to change her mind in the matter of a few hours was preposterous!

Yesterday afternoon, Snape had felt quite sure about his standing with her, that, for whatever reason, she was attracted to him, that he meant something to her, that she might even…learn to love him, but now he knew it all to be falsehoods and lies! Why else would she reject his offer of comfort? Why else would she keep so many secrets from him?

Now he was furious with her! He was so angry that he could even smell smoke…Wait, that was a cauldron burning!

"Longbottom!" he roared, striding over to the burnt cauldron. "Are simple directions too much for you to follow? There is no ginger _or_ moon dust in this potion! We're not making a Wit-Sharpening Potion. The only thing this would do is make someone dumber than a flobberworm!"

Snape Evanesco'd the burnt solution from Neville's cauldron. "Ten points from Gryffindor, and failing marks for botching another solution, Longbottom."

Hermione gave Neville a pitying glance as he sank into his chair.

Snape turned from his class to face the board. Where dunderheads everywhere? Also, speaking of botched potions, what was he to do about the scroll Noira was to translate? If she didn't return shortly, he would have nothing to show Dumbledore…actually, now that he thought about it, Snape supposed that he wouldn't have to meet with Dumbledore, period. Since the meeting was supposed to be with himself _and_ Noira, wouldn't it be completely pointless to attend by himself…wouldn't it? Besides, wasn't she doing all the translation, really? There was nothing he _could_ do unless she was there.

_Where in Merlin's name is she?_ If Noira didn't show up soon, Snape feared he would be driven insane. Sitting down at his desk, he waited for the class to end and the room to clear out.

Giving the class one last instruction he said, "Unlike Mr. Longbottom, those of you who have successfully completed their potions—evidenced by the green fog that should now be hovering over your caldrons—may bottle a sample and place it on my desk. As for the rest of you, a three foot scroll on why you failed is due immediately the next time this class meets." He heard a groan rise from half of the room. "Dismissed."

When the students had finally left, Snape decided to skip lunch and go looking for Noira again. He went into his office and placed all of the students' samples in a locked cabinet; he wouldn't put it past some of the little blighters to try and switch out their sample for one of their classmates. Snape then left his office and started to make his way back up to Noira's quarters.

He started down the Dungeon halls when he began to think. "What if this is what she wants," he said quietly to himself. His eyes widened in dark realization. "Upon the Serpent, I bet she probably wants me to look for her, expecting some show of pity…I think not!" He would not grant Noira the satisfaction of playing her game. After all, he was a Slytherin! He could play the game better than anyone else! Snape couldn't be tricked into looking for her. With a final sneer, Snape headed towards the Great Hall, and promised himself that he would not look for Noira.

(At least for the next couple of hours.)

oOoOoOo

Luckily for Snape, Dumbledore did not have him teach Noira's class, and instead cancelled it. Even though Snape supposed that he was qualified to teach the class—as he had attended nearly every single one—he did not wish to deal with the same class of Gryffindors and Slytherins twice in the same day. Even so, Snape still gave Dumbledore a baleful look on the way out of the Great Hall, as the old wizard was _still _wrong; Noira had yet to show up, and by the gods, Snape was not about to go looking for her.

He was resolute in his decision not to look for her, and secretly prided himself on not having given into the temptation to scour the castle and the grounds for her. True, it had only been an hour since he made that decision…but Snape conveniently looked over that fact.

On a spur of the moment decision, Snape decided to take the roundabout way back to the dungeons—the up-to-the-second-floor-past-Noira's-rooms-then-down-to-the-dungeons way. No, he wasn't looking for her...he simply wanted to check for any activity and place a surveillance charm on the door to her chambers and her office, just so he would know when she finally returned.

After doing so, and all under the premise of not caring, Snape returned to his office and decided to mark papers.

In the end, Snape did not go to the meeting with Dumbledore, took dinner in his rooms (to avoid his employer), and instead stayed up most of the night, prowling the halls and pacing through his quarters, but Noira never returned, nor were the charms he set ever tripped. Dejectedly, he finally retired for the night.

oOoOoOo

Snape awoke late the next morning after a fitful night's sleep. He lay there in bed and wondered if it was worth getting up. He reasoned that it was Saturday, and a blessedly teaching-free day, even if he still had his Head of House duties, so he had a free day to do whatever reading he had stacked on his desk. However, since he had nowhere to be that morning…and no one to see…Snape decided to lie there a bit longer. Right as he shut his eyes, he felt an alarm go off.

_Noira's office!_ She was back, and he was sure as hell going to meet her. He threw off the covers and cursed as he was hit by the cold. Quickly changing into his robes, Snape nearly ran to his fireplace, and grabbed the pot of Floo powder. He threw a handful into the fire, and called out his destination of Noira's office.

He only stuck his head into the fire, just so he could see that Noira was indeed in there…and conveniently enough, with her back to him! Snape came through the Floo and crept silently to stand right behind Noira.

"And where have you been?" he demanded.

Startled, Noira stiffened, but did not turn around. "Away," she answered calmly.

Snape bristled at her nonchalant response. "That's not good enough."

"Not good enough?" she responded, still facing away. "Why should you care?"

Snape turned her around to face him. "I care because I do, which is more than I can say about you!"

"What does that mean?"

'_What does that mean?' How can she possibly ask that? _He couldn't believe her! "You leave without any indication of how you left, disappear without a word to where you've gone, go without any thought of the class you had to teach, and without any consideration for the work you have to complete!"

Noira sighed and tried to walk past him. "Is that it, or do you have more to say?"

Snape blocked her path and pulled her close to him. He tilted her chin up and stared into her golden eyes. "And what about me?" he asked her softly.

"What about you?" she whispered.

After a second's hesitation, he kissed her forehead, and felt triumphant when she seemed to relax. "Do you not care about me?" Maybe he was wrong about his earlier assumptions about her disappearance.

He could see the indecision in her eyes. "I don't know," she finally answered.

_What?!_ Her response piqued a nerve in Snape. How dare she lie to herself and him! He knew what the answer was, so why did she deny it? Snape wouldn't stand for it, but instead of letting his anger get the best if him, he remained calm. He planted a kiss on her cheek, being careful to stay away from her dagger arm. "What about yesterday, hmmm? Did I not make my intentions clear?" He ran his hand down her side. "Did you not respond in kind?"

Noira spun out of his arms and walked to the other side of the room. "Get out."

"No, I will not get out." Snape moved closer to her new position. "Tell me what the hell is going on with you…" With a malicious streak, he finished with, "…Sidhe."

Noira's eyes blazed at his use of that name. "Fine," she gritted out. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Snape answered instantly. "And you _will_ tell me everything."

"Fine." Noira sat down behind her desk, and Snape sat down in a chair adjacent to her.

"Everything?" she asked reluctantly.

"Everything," he confirmed. "Do you promise?"

She gave a pained groan. "Yes"

"Will you make a wizard's oath on it?"

Noira began to panic. "No! I don't even know what that is, but no!"

Snape leaned forward in his chair. "Is it because it is an oath, and you will be bound by your nature to keep it…Sidhe?"

She flinched. "Severus, I sw… I _will_ tell you everything, within reason. Is that good enough for you?!"

"For now." Snape leaned back with a contented smirk on his face. Now they were getting down to business. He summoned the Book of Fae from his rooms, and caught it when it zoomed in through the Floo, not letting Noira see the title. "Now, where to begin?"

oOoOoOo

On coming back from practice at the Quidditch Pitch, Harry had been stopped by Dumbledore, and told to go see Professor Rohal. He didn't know how he was supposed to do that, as Professor Rohal had not been in class the day before, though he supposed that she could just be sick and hiding out in her office. Even so, Harry was surprised that Dumbledore had even spoken to him, since it seemed Dumbledore had been avoiding him since that summer at Grimmauld Place.

He was just so frustrated that no one trusted him with any information. After all _he was just a child—_that was a load of crock if you asked him. He didn't know why he was left out of everything; wasn't he supposed to be the one to defeat Voldemort? How he was supposed to do that without any information was a mystery to him. He was mad at Dumbledore for not speaking to him, mad at him for never looking him in the eye, and mad that every time they did talk it was in two or three word phrases. In fact, this directive was their longest conversation this year to date. He just hoped that by seeing Professor Rohal—if she was even in her office—he might finally get some answers. _It was all just so__ aggravating._

oOoOoOo

"So," Snape said. "You Tirnai dislike the name 'Sidhe' (Noira flinched), because it means 'hill' in Gaelic? That doesn't make any sense."

Noira growled. She couldn't believe she had agreed to tell him everything, but she was just so tired from keeping everything a secret. "No," she answered. "We dislike it because of the connotations behind it. The ancients called us Hill People, because that was where my kind would run to escape from the early wizards."

"So, if your kind disliked being known as cowards, then why did you run?"

Noira thought that he had to be trying to provoke her. "We are not _cowards…_ it is just that too many had died! Do you realize how hard it is for us to conceive! You wizards were killing us off faster than our children could be born. Couple that with the fact that we age so slowly, and you would run, too."

"No, I don't realize. Tell me about it."

Why was she discussing this? "That is more than you need to know. Now, move on."

"Fair enough," Snape conceded. He flipped a page in the book he was holding. "Why don't you speak Gaelic? After all, it is the Celts that spoke most about you."

Noira rolled her eyes. "For the same reason that I am speaking to you in English right now. You expect me to speak English, so that is what you hear. The Celts expected Gaelic, so that is what they heard. It is an illusion, Severus."

Snape folded his arms and traced his mouth with a single finger. "So…even your language is a by-product of glamour?"

"Yes," Noira answered tersely.

"Then, why can't you hide your fangs? You seem to be masters at glamour, so why that one hole?"

If there had been a wall in front of her, Noira would have been using it liberally. "Glamour is an illusion, and as such, always has imperfections. I do not know why…if you care that much, ask my father."

Snape grimaced at that thought. "I'll pass on that one." He flipped another page in his book. Noira could never quite read the title, as the spine was concealed by the robes in Snape's lap. She watched as he seemed to pause before asking his next question.

His eyes flicked upwards to meet hers. "What about," he paused, "shapeshifting, and your appearance? Is this what you really look like?"

_Is this the way I truly…of all the…ooh. _Noira was not pleased with this new line of questioning. Her nails gripped into the arms of her chair, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you have a problem with the way I look?"

Snape smirked. "No, I have no problem, at all, with the way you look…if this is indeed the way you truly look."

Snape rose to adjust his seat, and Noira caught a glimpse of the book title. _Book of Fae?_ She couldn't suppress the growl that rose in her. Did he not trust her enough that he had to double check everything in some _wizard_ book?

"So, what about your appearance?" he asked again.

Noira gave a forced smile. "You know, Severus, it is very rude to ask a fey about their true appearance…but of course, you knew that, as you had _read it in some book,_" she growled.

"What?"

Noira stood from her chair. "You heard me. Did you assume that every other word would be a lie, and that you had to double-check it with some wizard's point of view?"

Snape realized that she had seen the title of his book, and that he could no longer conceal it. "This?" he asked, holding to book freely up into the air. Noira knocked the book out of his hand, and it landed with a thump on her desk.

Snape stood as well. "You have yet to answer my question."

Noira began to walk away. "And I have decided that you no longer deserve an answer."

Snape blocked her path when she tried to move around her desk. "You said you would tell me everything. I already know that you can change into animals—I saw your father—so why not tell me the rest?"

Fire blazed in her eyes. "I said everything within reason, and I am not telling you about _that_." Noira dodged in the other direction, passing closely by her scrying glass.

Snape followed closely behind her, brushing against the glass with his robes. "You can't do that. You owe me this information."

"Owe you? I think not," she scoffed, beginning to circle in the other direction. They both brushed against the glass, and it began to wobble on its pedestal.

"Noira! Stop running!"

"Why, just so you can catch me again?"

"Stop this!" Snape grabbed onto the trailing edge of her vaya.

"Let me go!"

_CRASH!_

Noira stopped dead in her tracks. Turning slowly around, she saw Snape sprawled on top of a pile of broken glass, with silver mist diffusing into the air.

"My…my scrying glass…you broke it." Noira sounded like she was going to cry.

Snape stood up slowly, brushing the glass from his robes. He winced when he heard more of the glass crunch beneath his boots. He pulled out his wand and healed the cut on his hand. "So, I can fix it," he said.

Noira leaned against her desk in shock. "No _Reparo_ will fix this; the mists have escaped."

Snape was confused. "What was so special about this scrying glass?"

"It was a matched set! This was not any scrying glass, only matched sets can contact securely with each other. Now, I can no longer reach my father!" With that last statement, tears began to well into her eyes.

"It was your puerile attempt at running away that caused it." That was not the thing to say, as it only made Noira cry in earnest. Snape looked down at the glass shards at his feet. Why did these things always happen to him? Snape felt like kicking himself. He saw Noira kneel on the ground and begin to pick up the pieces one by one, and he couldn't stand to watch her do that.

Snape gulped and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't want to do it, had no reason to do it, she couldn't make him do it. _Damn it._ "I'm sorry?" he tried awkwardly.

Noira looked up at him. "Was that a statement or a question?"

"You're not going to make me say it again, are you?" Oh, his fingers were crossed that she wouldn't.

"Bastard."

Snape pulled her up from the ground, leaving the glass where it was. "You can curse me into oblivion later. We're going to see Dumbledore."

Hurriedly, Snape dragged Noira through the Floo.

oOoOoOo

Harry made is way down the first floor corridors, after telling Ron and his other team mates that he would meet them later in the common room. As he neared the door to Professor Rohal's office, he heard raised voices coming from the other side of the door.

_Snape._ He'd recognize that git's voice anywhere. _He's yelling and Professor Rohal is crying. I bet he did something to hurt her._ That bastard, it didn't matter that he was in The Order; he knew there was something not quite right with the slimeball. Whatever was happening, Harry guessed that Professor Rohal probably couldn't get away.

For the past few weeks, it seemed like Snape and Professor Rohal had even started getting along, especially starting after that door slamming episode in the Hall. Now with the arguing he heard, and the dark looks at breakfast yesterday, he knew it all had to be a ruse, a trick. Snape was a spy; Harry knew that he'd find a way to hide whatever was truly going on between them. He _had _to do something.

There was a crash, and then the voices went silent. _Oh no, something's happened._ He realized all the time he had wasted leaning against the door and quickly opened it without bothering to knock.

There was—no one.

He took his wand out and looked around the room; the only thing he could see was a pile of broken glass in one corner, and an old book sprawled out on the desk like it had been hastily dropped. _Maybe this will tell me something. _Taking a page from Hermione, he picked up the book and began to read.

oOoOoOo

Noira and Snape stepped out of the Floo and into Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, reading scrolls. He looked up at his visitors, and pushed up his half-moon spectacles. "Noira, Severus. I see you've finally come to meet with me, albeit a day late."

Noira stood with her hands clasped in front of her. "Headmaster, I apologize. It was my fault; I had to leave…"

"Yes, about your leaving," Dumbledore said. "I will not ask you where you went, but as a professor, you cannot simply leave the school, especially when you have classes to teach. I had to cancel yesterday's class. True, the students never mind missing a day, but think of all the information you won't have time to give them, especially since we're not sure how long you will be staying with us."

_How long she will be staying with us? What?_ Snape had nearly forgotten that Noira would be leaving at the end of the year. If he was going open her mind to the possibilities of a relationship between them, he had to do it now!

Noira hung her head. "I apologize, Headmaster."

"Very well, see that it does not happen again." Dumbledore shuffled his papers, and pushed them to the side. "Now, onto business. Oh, sit down, sit down…my apologies." Dumbledore waited for them both to sit before beginning. "I met with the Tha'abas, as you no doubt realize."

"Oh, I realize," Noira mumbled.

Dumbledore continued. "We discussed your progress with the potion text translation, and he was surprised to find out that you had yet to complete it. Has this been rectified?"

Snape glanced over at Noira. "Has it?" he echoed testily.

Noira reached into the folds of her vaya, and pulled out a scroll attached to a belt at her waist. "Here it is, complete with all nuances in meaning, and possible modern alternatives to unavailable ingredients."

"Like what?" Snape asked.

"Well, if you happen to have a mammoth's tongue in your stores, by all means…"

"That's not what I meant," Snape snapped back.

Dumbledore saw the need to intervene. "Professors, this is excellent news, and I will procure the ingredients you need to begin experimentation." Dumbledore took the scroll and placed it in a special drawer in his desk. "Severus," he said, turning to his Potions Master. "I plan on having a meeting of the Order tonight."

Snape nodded, and glanced at Noira. "Yes, Headmaster, I remember."

"And I want you to show up late, and bring Noira along."

Snape cocked an eyebrow. "You…want me to bring Noira to an Order meeting?"

"Yes, my boy. I do believe that's what I just said."

Snape gritted his teeth. He _hated_ when Dumbledore called him that. "You don't plan on initiating her, do you?"

"Why, indeed I do," Dumbledore responded, folding his hands on his desk. "Her father and I spoke about this, and we believe it would be in both of our best interests to place her there."

Snape turned his head to look at Noira. She looked simply _ecstatic_ at being spoken about as if she wasn't in the same room. Hoping to score points, he asked, "Noira, is this plan acceptable to you?"

It looked as if his intention to involve her in the conversation again was appreciated. "Yes, I am not opposed to joining your order, if it is indeed what my Tha'abas wishes."

Dumbledore rubbed his hands together and stood from his chair. "Very well, the Order is meeting tonight!"

oOoOoOo

Thank Merlin for the copying charm Hermione had taught him! Harry had pulled an old notebook from his bag and flipped through until he came to a blank page. He swirled the tip of his wand over the blank page and tapped it twice, then repeated the motion on the book he found. "_Effictum." _He tapped the tip of his wand on the book, and then on the blank page, where the words would then replicate. He was anxious as he frantically copied down as much from the book as he could.

As he read, he realized that _this_ was what the fight had been about; Snape must have threatened her with what he had read! He copied down all he thought was relevant (and a little more), and decided he had to show this to Ron and Hermione. They would help him figure out what to do.

Harry knew he couldn't go to Dumbledore; he doubted that the aged wizard would even talk to him. He had to handle this himself like anything else. Harry was tired of being kept in the dark.

He needed to meet in private with Hermione and Ron, tonight.


End file.
